


December

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [12]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Thorin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Angst, Dark, Everybody Lives, Fae Bilbo Baggins, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mermaid Bilbo Baggins, Mermaid Thorin Oakenshild, Mpreg, Omega Bilbo Baggins, Pokemon - Freeform, Polyamory, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 38,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter the time or place, Thorin always seems to draw Bilbo into an adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Treasure Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo likes to search for treasures.

Bilbo had always been adventurous. Even as a child, barely able to swim without his parent's hands holding him up by the belly, all he'd wanted to do was explore. His mother thought it endearing, but his father worried.

Now that he was an adult, living on his own no less, he hardly ever held himself back. The ocean was a big place full of discoveries to always be made, and he wanted to see it all. He loved going on his adventures, even if they were only to the edge of the coral shelf or to the far cove across the Brandywine Current. Not much ever happened in the Shire, after all, so anything new was wildly accepted by him (the other Hobbits, not so much).

Storms always brought interesting things into the ocean. Bilbo had a whole treasure box filled with strange things from the surface and from around the seas, things made of metal and stone and cloth and jewels. He loved collecting sea glass, and underwater gems often tumbled through on the ocean floor currents. He even had a handful of pearls, all the way from Rivendell where they were cultivated! Wasn't that just so exciting?

It was an understatement to say Bilbo admired the storms. Rather, they exhilarated him. He was always the first to brave the terrifyingly calm waters in search of things that had washed up. With a small satchel in tow, he made his way from his home of Bag-End and out into the Shire, where no other had get dared to come. 

Almost instantly he found things that were not there before. Shells of all shapes and colours - he picked up a curved white one with symmetrical ridges - and bits of cloth. On a lamppost he found a thick scarf woven from fabric that couldn't grow in the Shire, and he quickly shoved that in his satchel with the shell. Further down the lane he came across a shallow dish, the inside of which was lustrous and brightly coloured (that also went in his satchel). 

Bilbo let out an inquisitive hum as he observed the land before him. He was past where the smials were built, and from here he could see the Brandywine Current twisting through the water. Just beyond it, the coral shelf dropped off into the depths of the ocean. No respectable Hobbit would ever venture out into such dangerous territory. 

He just smiled giddily, and took off towards it. There was a small bridge that led across the Brandywine, and he gripped the railings tightly to avoid being caught by the rushing water as he swam over the current. The drop off was much deeper when he looked at it from the edge of the shelf, tightly gripping a coral branch as if he would suddenly fall.

He knew that the best treasures would be down there. Everything fell off the coral shelf if it wasn't entangled in the Shire. Most things were swirled around and caught by the Brandywine then tossed aside - he'd seen it happen, but he'd never gone down there, most often due to the fact that he was content with what he discovered in the Shire. 

Today, however, he would go down there. It didn't scare him, he was eager to explore. After a last lingering glance back at the Shire, he swam off the coral shelf and down into the darker waters. His eyes adjusted quickly enough, and it was a little colder further away from the surface, but it didn't bother him. 

The sandy floor came into view quicker than he expected. He knew it wouldn't be too deep so close to a coral ridge, but the further he went out the deeper it would become. Hobbits weren't built to survive the temperatures of the deep, so he knew not to go past where any vegetation native to the Shire grew. He was glad to find that still meant he had many places to explore. 

Predictably, strange objects started to appear as soon as he got close to the sand. He couldn't help but let out an excited trill as he took it all in. He found a pretty bracelet made of woven silver, and quickly pocketed it. A few tail lengths away he found what looked like a seed pod, one he hadn't even seen before, so he took that too. He'd be entertained by the things he'd found for days after this storm. It made his stomach coil in excitement.

As he brushed past tall, gently swaying bushes, he felt his stomach drop. He sucked in a breath and quickly backed into the leaves, hiding behind them as he stared wide-eyed at what was in front of him.

It was a person.

A very _injured_ person.

Bilbo pressed his hand to his mouth as he looked on. The man was slumped between two rocks - Bilbo would have never noticed him if he hadn't come into the clearing at this very angle. The man had thick black hair pulled back by several braids, and a tail that was long and thickly muscled, covered by scales of a deep blue. Some had gone silver with age, like his hair, but Bilbo found him ethereally attractive nevertheless. The man's broad chest was mottled with bruises, and his skin was too pale to be considered healthy.

Swallowing down his nerves, Bilbo edged into the clearing. "H-hey..." He whispered. "Are you alright?"

The man let out a small groan, blinking open harsh eyes. He glared at Bilbo ferociously, pupils tiny. Bilbo knew he was scared and in pain, so he didn't take offense to it. He inched closer, and let out a calming coo from the back of his throat when a growl tried to warn him away.

"Got caught in the storm, huh?" Bilbo sighed, more to himself than the man, as he riffled through his satchel for the scarf. This man was clearly cold, but when Bilbo wrapped the scarf around his neck and tucked it in carefully he seemed to quieten. "You're not from around here... I'm Bilbo."

"Thorin." The man replied gruffly, eyeing Bilbo cautiously. 

Bilbo smiled widely. He'd never seen anyone like Thorin before - his tail was quite foreign and exquisite. The limb was longer than Bilbo's, layered with muscles rather than chubbiness like Bilbo's own. Thorin's tail fin was much the same as his tail, built for strength and endurance. Bilbo's was the opposite - long, built to move with the currents, like lace or cloth. 

Bilbo always carried a first aid kit with him, so he pulled that out and set to healing the small cuts on Thorin's skin. The bruises would have to heal naturally, but as long as he didn't have any broken bones and his temperature was raised, Bilbo was confident he would be back to normal in no time.

"We should probably get back up to the reef." Bilbo said as he packed away his things. "I don't think the storm will come back, but it's safer up there, warmer too. Everyone will be out again soon, so we should go if you don't want to be seen."

Thorin grunted in pain as Bilbo gingerly helped him upright. "Gentle." He hissed.

"You're heavier than I expected." Bilbo replied, not unkindly. "Put your arm around me."

Thorin complied, his hand resting heavily on Bilbo's hip. It wasn't too difficult to swim back up to the reef, even with Thorin only helping a little. The Shire was as deserted as he predicted it would be, which he was thankful for. He didn't think any Hobbits could bear the sight of someone like Thorin in their midst, it was far too _adventurous._

Bag-End was located in a fairly remote area, so Bilbo was confident that Thorin would be able to rest there in peace. It was a bit of work pushing the door open, but once inside he dropped his satchel and led Thorin to his bed. Thorin's tail fins dangled off the edge, but he seemed comfortable enough. Satisfied, Bilbo turned to leave, only to have a hand suddenly grip his arm.

"Thorin?" Bilbo's brows puckered in concern as he drifted to hover over Thorin, eyes searching his face for signs of discomfort. "You're not too cold, are you?"

Thorin shook his head. "Thank you." He murmured. "You didn't have to help me." 

Bilbo just looked at him strangely, but an easy grin came across his face. "Of course I would have helped you, silly. Now you just rest up and get better."

Thorin watched him with wavering eyes, but he made no move to get up. "You're different, Bilbo." He said. "I've never met anyone like you."

Bilbo flushed, pleased by the praise. He hadn't had anyone say something so nice to him in a long while. "Well, you're certainly the weirdest thing I've ever found after a storm." He laughed quietly. "Now rest up, I'm going to get more blankets and make us something to eat! Don't you move a muscle."

"I won't." Thorin said. "Thank you again, Bilbo."

Bilbo just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by doctorwhoatson~
> 
> Welcome to another month! I hope I can continue to bring you something you enjoy reading ^///w///^ ❤


	2. Early Morning Feeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes over Thorin's turn for feeding Frodo during the night.

Bilbo groaned as the faint sound of a baby starting to cry woke him. He quickly rolled out of bed, shivering at the cold floor that stung his bare feet, and hurriedly made his way to the nursery. 

Frodo was still too young to sleep through the entire night, but he only woke up once for a feed now. Bilbo and Thorin took turns waking for him, and although it wasn't Bilbo's night he went to console Frodo anyway. Thorin had been working late this past week, and looked exhausted. This was the least Bilbo could do. 

He carried Frodo downstairs to heat up a bottle, and fed him down there too, where he could lean against the kitchen counter. Frodo squirmed and grizzled, but didn't look away from Bilbo's eyes. The eye contact always had Bilbo's stomach flipping, and he found he could never look away, either. His baby was going to be such a clever little boy, he could tell. He had to treasure the moments when Frodo couldn't walk, and therefore couldn't run circles around him. 

Bilbo let out a yawn as he worked out how much Frodo had drank to jot it down in the book they kept to keep track of Frodo's development. He was pleased to find that Frodo was comfortably drinking a quarter of an ounce more than he had been drinking last week. 

After deciding that he'd wash up in the morning, Bilbo carefully tucked Frodo further into his swaddling blanket and made the trip back upstairs. It was cold, but Frodo tended to squirm when he drank, so Bilbo tolerated his arms being uncovered. The nursery was pleasantly warm when he entered and took a seat in the rocking chair by the crib.

Frodo would eventually fall asleep once more, but for now Bilbo was content to rock him into drowsiness. He hummed absently as Frodo watched him intensely, even as his eyelids began to drop. Bilbo was very thankful for how easy Frodo was - he hardly ever cried, and stuck to a very solid routine. Bilbo had it easy compared to some parents, he was sure.

"Bilbo?"

"Did I wake you?" Bilbo glanced up to see Thorin shuffling into the room, hair messy and yawning. 

"I heard you singing through the monitor." Thorin said, taking a seat on the arm of the chair to smile down at Frodo, who's gaze had shifted to him. 

"Sorry."

Thorin shook his head dismissively. "It's my night, why are you awake?"

Bilbo smiled bashfully. "I thought you deserved the night off."

Thorin pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. "I don't want you exhausting yourself, you deserve to rest, too."

Bilbo chuckled, and turned his head up.

Thorin obligingly pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I think he's almost there."

Bilbo glanced back down to Frodo, who seemed unable to keep his eyes open. He was startle every know and then, as if he truly didn't want to sleep. "Want to hold him?"

Thorin opened his arms, and carefully took the tiny baby, holding him against his bare chest. Frodo's eyes jumped open, but quickly closed again when Thorin shifted him into the crook of one elbow so that he had a hand free to fun his fingertips down the bridge of Frodo's nose.

Bilbo cooed at him. "He loves when you do that."

Thorin smiled faintly, and moved to settle Frodo back into his crib. Thorin fussed over the blanket for a moment, making sure everything was absolutely perfect, before tucking Bilbo into his arms. "He's such a cute baby."

"He is." Bilbo grinned lazily. 

Thorin pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Let's go back to bed."

Bilbo yawned, and allowed himself to be led back to their bedroom by Thorin. There was nothing he liked more than being cuddled by Thorin, knowing he had several more hours to sleep peacefully before Frodo would awaken again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Littlenori~


	3. Harbinger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo lives in the desert. They don't welcome outsiders.

_It's going to be another hot day, huh..._

Bilbo held his watering can close to his chest as he looked over his house plants critically. They were sturdy little things, built for the harsh conditions of the desert. That didn't mean they weren't still susceptible to intense heat, but a little water usually cured them up. 

He was a little worried, regardless of how healthy they appeared. There had been a strange scent on the breeze for a few days now, something that had him feeling unsettled. Not many dared to travel through such treacherous terrain - in fact, the only race Bilbo had ever seen aside from Hobbits was a single meddling Wizard. 

He sighed to himself as he went to dress. He'd go out amongst the sand dunes again today, to watch the horizon in anticipation. His instincts wouldn't lead him wrong with this.

The clothing Hobbits wore were minimalistic. Bilbo favoured short pants made of a royal red coloured fabric, but otherwise he was draped in a translucent white cloth that crossed over his chest and looped around his hips. It was made to be a protectant from the harsh sun while remaining cool, despite the blistering heat that was common to the Shire. He knew he wore the cloth a bit feminine - he preferred to have it loose, and he could certainly see his form through it, but he didn't particularly mind. It was comfortable, after all.

As he expected, it was endlessly hot outside of his little hidden home. He climbed the sand dunes until he had a good vantage point, and allowed himself to be soothed by the warm breeze. 

He'd find who was wandering through his desert today, he could feel it. 

 

Bilbo should have expected the Wizard to be at fault for his discomfort. At just past midday he found the Wizard wandering with a small caravan of what looked to be Dwarves, and although he was unfortunately very curious about them, he was also irritated.

"We cannot travel in this way for much longer." One Dwarf growled as Bilbo safely observed them from behind a dune. 

"Patience." Gandalf answered. "He'll appear soon enough."

"Who?" The Dwarf snapped. "You've had us wandering out here _lost_ for days!"

Gandalf went to answer, but stopped in favour of turning to stare at where Bilbo stood. "Ah, there you are."

Bilbo frowned at him. Gandalf had sensed his presence, that much was obvious, but it usually didn't take him that long. They must of been under the sun for longer than he had previously assumed. "Why are you here?"

The Dwarves shouted in surprise, but Bilbo ignored it in favour of glaring down at Gandalf. The breeze swirled loose sand across the dune, catching in the strands of fabric draped across his body. 

"We needed a safe route to the Blue Mountains." Gandalf said. "A path that Wargs and Orcs wouldn't be able to track."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. It was true that those species couldn't make it through the harsh desert, but Dwarves faired no better. Only Hobbits would survive in such temperatures. "And what makes you think I'll guide you? You know I dislike leaving my home, and yet you still draw me out for days as you wander, lost, in sands that reject you."

Gandalf stared at him inquiringly. "You owe me a favour, Bilbo Baggins." He said, voice strict. "This is it."

Bilbo gritted his teeth, and turned away. "This is it." He repeated. "Then you'll leave me alone, once and for all, and I shall never guide you through here again."

Gandalf just gave him a satisfied look, and began to lead the Dwarves after him. Predictably, they stumbled and slipped in the sand without any finesse or grace, which only irritated Bilbo further. Really, they were quite slow. At least it gave him the opportunity for introductions.

"This is Kili and Fili," Gandalf said, "And Balin and Dwalin. And that is Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo's eyebrows crinkled as he took in the new information. He'd heard that last name before, in passing whispers that swept over the Shire like the wind. "And what would you be doing travelling with a misplaced Dwarven King?"

Thorin's dark eyes shot over to him, narrowed in suspicion. "You know who I am."

"I may live in the desert, but my head is not in the sand, Master Oakenshield." Bilbo sneered. "Honestly, what do you mistake me for?"

"Don't answer that." Gandalf advised swiftly. 

"You seem adverse to helping us." Thorin said, moving to keep pace with Bilbo as he traversed the sandy plains. "Why?"

Bilbo glanced at him sharply. "This is my home. Why bring unnecessary trespassers into it? Last time someone did that, we almost died out. All of us. I won't have anyone threatening my home, favour or not."

Surprisingly, Thorin gave him an admiring look. "You're very loyal." He murmured.

Bilbo tilted his head, curious. What a strange Dwarf Thorin was proving himself to be. "Of course I am. What need do you have in the Blue Mountains?"

Thorin looked at him, as if calculating whether to tell him or not. "I plan on taking back Erebor." He finally said. "I am meeting with the Lords in the Blue Mountains to see if they will aid me."

Bilbo hummed. "Was your mountain not claimed by a dragon?"

"It was." Thorin replied grimly. "Smaug."

 _They won't help you. You cannot defeat a dragon alone._ "I'll see you through to the edge of the Shire." Bilbo eventually decided. He tried not to feel anything at the look Thorin gave him, but his stomach stirred nevertheless. "If only to get that Yavanna forsaken Wizard off my back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Miz_Piou~
> 
> I wanted to write more, but I'm very tired today ^^" I got a little stumped as to what to write next, too - I usually develop a few scenes as I write (as everything is written on the day, not continued or pre-written in advance) but today they were not very forthcoming~


	4. Five-Legged Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo convinces Thorin to cloud gaze with him.

Bilbo laughed as Thorin clumsily placed a little flower he'd plucked from the ground behind Bilbo's pointed ear. Thorin's fingers tickled the sensitive skin, and were too big to neatly slot the flower between strands of Bilbo's curly hair, but it was a thoughtful and charming gesture nevertheless. 

Thorin just huffed a smile at him. He had blades of grass tangled in his hair, though Bilbo assumed he did too. They'd been rolling around in the grass since mid-morning, so they were bound to be dirty. Bilbo found that he didn't really mind, and was content to lay as he were, so that they would watch the clouds and take in the freshness of such a clear day together. 

Truthfully, that's all they'd been doing. Thorin didn't often give himself time off, but if Bilbo asked something of him he was always quick to give it. And days spent relaxing under the sun were something that Bilbo greatly enjoyed doing, even more so with Thorin as a companion. 

"That one look likes a rabbit." Bilbo observed, pointing up at a cloud that drifted past the mountain and over Esgaroth. "Don't you think?"

"A rabbit with five legs, possibly." Thorin teased. "That one, however, looks much more like a ram."

Bilbo's eyes moved over to the cloud Thorin pointed out. "It looks like a kettle!"

Thorin chuckled. "A kettle?"

"Maybe it looks more like a daisy." He conceded. "Do you think it looks like a daisy?"

Thorin tilted his head, humming contemplatively. "It looks like a flower of some sort." He eventually nodded. "A daisy, you say?"

Bilbo laughed again, and shuffled over to rest half sprawled across Thorin's broad chest. "It's definitely a daisy." He said. "And that is definitely a rabbit."

Thorin smiled passively, and pressed his lips to Bilbo's forehead. "I'm glad you brought me out here today, it's quite relaxing."

Bilbo grinned. "Isn't it just? I used to do this all the time in the Shire."

"Do you miss it?"

"A little, naturally." Bilbo said. "But I do not wish to return permanently. Besides, the view of the clouds here is much better! I can see much farther, and I'm sure I can convince you that that cloud is, in fact, shaped like a rabbit."

Thorin laughed. "If you say it is a rabbit, then I shall believe you, my dear."

Bilbo grinned smugly, but Thorin just snorted at him. "A rabbit it is, then!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short, I had begun a second part of the last chapter but it crashed before I could save and although I was only a few sentences in, I gave up ^^" I was tired today, ahh
> 
> But I accepted my early entry to university yesterday! I got offered a spot in the first-round offers, which is nice ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)


	5. Snowball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snowball goes astray and Thorin is not amused.

"Really, love, must you?"

Bilbo waved away Thorin's concerned hands, and carefully tightened the scarf around his neck until it was warm and comfortable. "I'll be fine, darling." He reassured.

"But the baby...."

"Will be fine too." Bilbo said. "Are you going to join me?"

Thorin looked affronted at the mere notion of leaving Bilbo to himself, and rushed to pull on his thick coat and scarf as well. He was quickly by Bilbo's side again, hands hovering. "Are you sure you're warm enough?" He asked.

"Yes." Bilbo replied, grinning in excitement. "Let's go! I haven't been out in the snow for ages."

Thorin didn't reply, but escorted Bilbo out of Erebor and into the chilly mountain slopes nevertheless. 

Bilbo understood Thorin's concern, after all he was only perhaps a week away from going into labour with their first and possibly only child. It was a miracle Bilbo had ever conceived in the first place, considering the fact that they were different species. Bilbo hadn't thought they'd been compatible in that sense, but they obviously were. He knew that Dwarven pregnancies were fragile and fleeting at best, completely at odds with the fertile and frequent pregnancies of Hobbits, and because his child would be half-Dwarven he knew he had to be careful. 

But a little time out in the snow wouldn't do him or the unborn baby any harm. He was properly rugged up, his feet wouldn't feel the cold, and he knew Thorin would linger behind him just in case anything happened. Really, it would be a refreshing, albeit short trip out into the open air and then he would tire of it and wish to return to his armchair. 

When they made it outside, Bilbo was pleasantly surprised to find that Fili and Kili already out and about, tossing handfuls of snow and pushing each over down in the way that they always did. They'd returned to their old selves in the months Bilbo had been pregnant - everyone struggled after the Battle of the Five Armies, but none more so than the young, gravely injured Princes. 

"Bilbo!" Kili cried as he shoved his brother away and bounded over. "Why are you outside?"

"You should be resting!" Fili said, elbowing Kili harshly as he wandered up to them. 

"I'm fine." Bilbo chuckled. "Your Uncle is keeping a close eye on me."

The two of them observed their Uncle critically, eyes taking in the hand Thorin had on Bilbo's back and the sheer amount of warm clothing he'd managed to to fit over Bilbo's large stomach. Only when they seemed appeased did they go back to their roughhousing.

"Of course I am." Thorin grumbled in Bilbo's ear quietly.

Bilbo laughed. The brothers never once doubted Thorin, always trusted him to a fault - unless it came to their baby cousin and Bilbo, it seemed. Bilbo thought it endearing to see them so excited over the new arrival, but Thorin found them tedious. Deep down Bilbo knew he admired them for their loyalty to the Royal Consort, though. Bilbo knew that Thorin was proud of them for being so fiercely protective that they'd even double check on their own King. 

Bilbo made his way out of their line of fire, waddling over the snow contently. It was refreshing to be outside, as he knew he probably wouldn't leave the mountain again until the baby was born and he was fully healed. 

"Isn't it nice out today?" Bilbo asked pleasantly, as he made a seat for himself on a large rock after brushing away the snow. "It's very crisp."

Thorin nodded in agreement. "You're sure you're not cold?"

"Not at all." Bilbo said, absently reaching into his pockets for his handkerchief. He startled when he realised it wasn't there, but when he turned his head to glance back the way they'd come he saw it laying on the ground. "Ah, I dropped it..."

Thorin glanced back, and stood to fetch it. 

Bilbo smiled thankfully, and turned to survey the view ahead of him. It really was quite beautiful, one if not the most wondrous of views he'd ever seen. 

Suddenly, Bilbo heard a grunt. He twisted around in time to see a snowball thump into the back of Thorin's shoulder, but another went astray, and before he could duck it slammed into the back of his head. Vision going white, Bilbo tumbled forwards, his arms jutting out to protect his protruding stomach.

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted, his hands taking a firm grip on Bilbo's coat to yank him backwards. Bilbo let out a shout of surprise as Thorin pulled him safely into his arms before he could topple to the ground. 

"I'm alright, I'm alright." Bilbo breathed harshly, groaning as he pushed himself to his knees and struggled to stand. "Just a little startled."

Thorin glared witheringly at his nephews, who looked on the verge of tears. "How could you be so reckless!" He snarled. "And around Bilbo!"

"Honestly, I'm fine." Bilbo quickly intervened. "Kili, Fili, help me up please."

They jumped to comply, hands gingerly grasping parts of him to lift him to his feet. "We're so sorry, Bilbo." Kili said, brows puckered in fright as Fili nodded in agreement hastily. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm fine." Bilbo assured, even as Thorin growled and glared. "Put me back on the rock please, I want to enjoy my time out here."

"But-!" Fili protested, his hand tightening on Bilbo's elbow in concern.

"Let me have my fun." Bilbo said lightly as he settled back onto the rock. "It was just an accident, nothing to fuss over." As if agreeing, the child gave a rather feisty kick that had Bilbo huffing and patting his stomach. "Still as rambunctious as ever. Now go have your fun too, it'll be nightfall soon and we'll all have to go in."

Although the brothers seemed entirely reluctant to leave Bilbo, the Hobbit managed to coax them away. Thorin took a seat beside him, watching his two nephews cautiously as he placed a large hand on Bilbo's stomach just to feel the reassuring kicks of their child himself. 

"You're too lenient." He said.

"It was an accident." Bilbo sighed. "Did you not see their faces? I couldn't possibly break their hearts any further."

Thorin hummed, and cuddled Bilbo close. "Please take it easy, Bilbo. I worry for you greatly."

"I know." Bilbo soothed, taking Thorin's hand in both his own. "But you've done very well in treating me how I wish to be treated, so I can forgive a bout of protectiveness here and there. I worry too, but I'm sure the baby would tell me if they were upset or uncomfortable. Not much longer to go now, on either hand."

Thorin pursed his lips, eyes stricken. "I still worry."

"I should hope so." Bilbo chuckled. He lifted Thorin's hand and pressed a dainty kiss to Thorin's scarred knuckles. "But all shall be well, you'll see. I have no insecurities about any of this, and soon enough we'll be meeting our child. I can't find it in myself to be apprehensive when I'm already so excited." He admitted.

Thorin sighed, and tucked him in closer. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am." Bilbo snorted.

Thorin chuckled. "As always, my treasure. As always."


	6. Furry Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sees stranger creatures that no one else does.

"Why are you always up here?"

He breathed in deeply, taking in the crispness of the breeze, letting it infiltrate his lungs and sooth his burning mind. It was always windy this high up, forty-three stories from the ground, but he relished the silence it brought. 

"Bilbo?"

He opened his eyes. Before him, as it was every day, was the sprawling city. "I'm watching."

"Watching what?"

"Them."

They were always there - great creatures that lumbered between the skyscrapers and towered over everything in the city, limbs out of proportion, covered in gently swaying fur. Their legs were long, their hips high, their arms even longer, enough to brush against the ground, no doubt. They were grotesquely thin, but oddly beautiful, and haunting. 

Thorin sighed, and came to take a seat on the concrete beside him. "Are there a lot today?"

Bilbo nodded, and lifted his hand to point. "There's one there." He said, eyes distant. "And there, and there. There are two there, and another there. That one walked right by those two over there an hour ago."

Thorin pulled him closer, and let Bilbo settle under Thorin's arm. He remained silent, but his hand was warm and comforting as it rubbed gentle lines on Bilbo's arm.

Bilbo closed his eyes. Thorin didn't see the furry strangers that he did - in fact, Bilbo was the only one who could see them at all. His parents had taken him to all kinds of specialists when he was little, because he'd scream and cry at seemingly nothing and talk about giant creatures silently wandering the streets, but there was nothing wrong with him.

He grew used to their presence, eventually. He didn't exactly know what they were, but they seemed harmless enough. He thought they might have been the collected feelings of humans, feelings of anger and resentment and loneliness. He thought that maybe they followed the people who felt that the most.

It would explain why there was always one by his building.


	7. Set Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was eleven when he first met Thorin.

He was eleven when he first met Thorin. When one is at least an inch and a half shorter than everyone else their age and noticeably chubbier, teasing comes so natural that it brings up questions regarding modern parenting techniques. 

But Thorin was different. He was taller and broader, and two years older. Without a word he picked Bilbo up from the ground, dusted him off and tucked him under his wing, where Bilbo had remained ever since. No one messed with Thorin, not because he was particularly mean, but rather because he _looked_ the part. Really, he was a complete sweetheart on the inside, and Bilbo took to him practically from the first glance. No one could understand how children who were so different could get along so well.

People started to understand as they got older. Bilbo's parents loathed the fact that he was so close to someone who looked like a delinquent, and it took a long time for them to let Thorin sleepover. It took Bilbo a lot of begging and almost-tears, too. 

Thorin's parents were different. They were glad he finally had a friend who wasn't his cousin, Dwalin, or someone else close to the family. Thorin had _made a friend all on his own,_ they said. It made Bilbo feel like he was an accomplishment for Thorin, which he found he didn't mind. It made him feel special. 

As they grew older, and their friends and family started to really _see_ their connection, the subtle hints started to drop. Compliments for Thorin started to flow, and while Bilbo was thankful his family was staring to like Thorin so much, he already _knew_ how handsome Thorin was, and he had no doubt Thorin would made a great husband to someone one day. 

Thorin was subject to the same treatment. His little sister, Dis, often asked them to take her places and left them to themselves while she went off to do things. Other times his parents would praise Bilbo for seemingly small things, like the dinner he'd cooked for them all or the way he wrapped presents so perfectly at Christmas. While it made Bilbo feel awfully chuffed, it was strange. Especially when the both of them were constantly asked if they had a "partner" or "significant other".

Bilbo thought they were being interrogated, even more so when questions regarding their future - marriage, children, houses and things of the like - began to arise.

"It's like they're trying to set us up." Thorin murmured to him one day. 

Bilbo gasped as Thorin's hands wandered down past his hips to knead at his skin, right where he knew it would make Bilbo squirm. He took advantage of Bilbo's momentary distraction to capture his lips in a searing kiss that made Bilbo's toes curl in pleasure. He smirked against Bilbo's lips when Bilbo moaned incoherently. 

"M-mmm?" Bilbo pulled back, frowning to clear his head even as Thorin's hands moved to tease sensitive parts of his body that he knew would distract him. "Set us up?"

Thorin hummed in agreement, hands guiding Bilbo's hips to rock against his lap. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Now that you mention it..." Bilbo sighed, his back arching as Thorin started to lift his shirt. "Shall we tell them we've been dating for a decade?"

Thorin chuckled, and ran his lips down Bilbo's neck to suck a harsh mark into the junction where his throat met his shoulder. "I'd rather keep you all to myself."


	8. Tasteful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets his soulmate.

Despite having five senses, there are only four present at birth. They say that the most important one develops when a person meets their soulmate, and only then will a person be complete, only then will the world open up all its wanders to taste and hear and touch and see and smell and be _experienced._

Each vacancy left a mark on the person. Those without taste struggled with eating disorders, as everything tasted like nothing and was as such no longer worthy of consuming. Those without touch were often scarred, as cuts and bruises and burns did not register as painful. Those without the ability to smell were prone to allergies and lung problems, as agitators such as pollen and smoke were never detected. Those without hearing could easily lose the ability to gain their hearing, even with a soulmate, due to unintentional exposure to loud noises and ear infections. Those without the ability to see were prone to eye conditions and extreme sensitivity to light. It was never easy to handle, especially without one's soulmate.

Bilbo was born without taste. He struggled to feed as a child, and was somewhat disappointed when he developed a passion for baking. It took many tries for him to create something that his parents could stomach, not for a lack of trying. Although he could follow a recipe right down to every word, there were certain constructs that he simply didn't understand, like the difference between caster sugar and icing sugar, and why raspberries tasted different from strawberries and different still from blueberries. He had no room for experimentation, for creativity, less he cook something utterly awful.

All his passion could afford him was an average job at an average bakery. He could follow instructions, and cook food better than most people with his deficiency, but it would never be enough for him to take off into the culinary world on his own. 

Inevitably, it happened to be his mediocre job at the bakery that led him to his soul mate. Surrounded by the scent of freshly baked bread and the gentle humming of the ovens, Bilbo had been in a state of general content in which the reality of his tastelessness wasn't affecting his mood too forwardly. He'd carried a hot tray to the front of the store where it would cool in the display shelves, but he'd never been the most elegant person and was prone to bouts of clumsiness.

Spilling freshly iced cookies all over the floor that morning was one such bout. 

A stranger had grabbed the tray to steady it before all the merchandise could be ruined.

"Are you alright?" The handsome man rumbled, eyes deep and dark and blue as he watched Bilbo's face curiously. 

"Your hands!" Bilbo cried, pulling the tray away in favour of cradling the man's reddened hands in his own. "You'll burn yourself!"

"I..." The man frowned, his gaze fixed to their hands. "I couldn't feel it."

Bilbo followed his gaze. The man's hands were covered in scars, mostly small ones, like paper cuts that had been too deep, and faint discolouration marks where he'd been burned and healed. "You can't feel."

He was met with a rueful smile. "It hurts, now. It burns."

Bilbo's head jerked up, his eyes going wide. He could feel tears pooling in his eyes, and without a second thought he flung his arms around the stranger and pressed their lips together. A strange, earthy bitterness flooded his mouth, but it was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. 

"It's bitter." He warbled tearfully, touching his lips with shaky fingers.

"I just had coffee." The man chuckled, flushed from Bilbo's display of affection.

"So that's coffee." He laughed, even as he scrubbed at his watery eyes.

The man eyed the cookies on the tray, and brought one up to Bilbo's lips.

Bilbo gripped it and took a tentative bite. He had to sniffled away further tears when a sugary sweetness washed over his tongue. No wonder children loved those cookies so much!

"You work in a bakery but you can't taste?"

"I love to cook." Bilbo explained, using the edge of his apron to dry his eyes. "I really love it!"

The man laughed, and gazed at him in a way that made Bilbo feel like he was the only person in the world. "My name is Thorin." He said, standing and helping Bilbo to his feet.

"Bilbo." He replied, tentatively shaking Thorin's large hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Thorin said. "Can I run my hands under water...? They're starting to sting."

"Oh my god!"


	9. Mountain Peaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo loved the mountain, perhaps even more than the Dwarves!

Bilbo loved the mountain, perhaps even more than the Dwarves! None expected him to become accustomed to Erebor quite so well or quite so quickly, but no one could fault him for his enthusiasm. He'd been used to the rolling hills of the Shire, like all other Hobbits, but like his ancestors he was better suited to the rocky terrain of mountain peaks.

It helped that he got along with the goats and rams of Erebor, too. Along with being placed in charge of the agricultural department, he was also given the job of taking them onto the mountain for time out of their pens. He was able to keep up with them better than Dwarves, and they liked to listen to him. Bilbo thought the Dwarves might of been a little miffed about that, in the beginning, but now they just found it amusing. 

He supposed it helped that he was half goat. His hooves were perfect for traversing the mountain, and his brown fur was thick and wind-resistant, so he never got particularly cold.

"I did not expect a Hobbit to be so comfortable in a mountain." Thorin remarked to him one day, as he helped Bilbo return the last ram to its pen. "You should wear warmer clothes, Bilbo. It gets cold up there."

Bilbo laughed, and accepted the scarf Thorin meticulously fixed around his neck. "It's not too cold." He replied with a grin. "I suppose mountains are your thing, huh? You and all the Dwarves."

Thorin cracked a faint smile. "I must admit, it is quite amusing."

Thinking back on when he had first started going onto the slopes, Bilbo did think it was hilarious. The Dwarves were content with his affinity for their home now, but they hadn't always been. They couldn't understand how a Hobbit was more comfortable in their home than they themselves were, and would often watch him on the mountain peaks with disbelieving expressions as their animals rushed to join him in his dancing and singing and general merry-making. 

Thorin was undeniably pleased, however. He had been anxious about Bilbo's transition, and had even offered for them to live in the Shire rather than Erebor, but Bilbo hadn't wanted to hear a word of it. Here, the Dwarves would accept his presence, eventually. In the Shire they'd be nothing but gossip material for the next fifty years. Besides, it wasn't as though they wouldn't visit Bag-End every Spring, both for a little reprieve from their duties in Erebor and to make sure none of Bilbo's nosy neighbours stole away with his silverware.

"I've got a bath running." Thorin said, as he placed a hand on the small of Bilbo's back to guide him inside. "It should be almost ready for you."

Bilbo smiled, and leaned into Thorin's side with a pleased sigh. He glanced up at Thorin out from under his eyelashes. "Will you be joining me?"

Thorin grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Heidifox~ ^^


	10. Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown._
> 
> Bilbo, twisted by the selfishness of mortals, becomes disturbingly obsessed with death.

Life is cruel, but in love. He didn't love living, of course, didn't love the taste of fresh air or the way birds sung in the mountain peaks or the piercing cry of a newborn child. He wasn't in love with the experience of living, of life itself.

No, he loved death. He loved death very dearly.

Life was just like that. Really, it was quite deranged - he created people, birthed a world full of glories and beautiful sights and endless adventures to be made, and kept most of it out of reach. Life was full of holes, full of treacherous things that were not death, but rather a path that forced a person to walk until death could bring peace to their suffering.

Death was calm. Death was a refuge. It was a saviour. 

Life was drowning, was murder and blood and personal demons. Life was hopelessness and loneliness and being alone and unworthy. It was vigorous and angry and relentless. 

But life loved death. 

Bilbo brought people into the world so that they could be taken away by Thorin. He held them down, watched them sink into the deep end where Thorin would close their eyes and gently pull the breath from their lungs. He liked to think that Thorin was his, even if death didn't always cooperate.

It wasn't so twisted in the beginning. The demand for new life wasn't strenuous, and Bilbo could withstand their deaths, could withstand being the one to give them something so precious knowing he would be the one to lead them to destruction. His meetings with death had been sparing back then, because he hadn't wanted to know where life went after he'd tangled it, but as time went on everything changed.

Humans became selfish and deranged themselves. They didn't fear death as they once did, and took advantage of life, knowing that it in some ways could be bent to satisfy their greedy desires. The world was filled with animosity, with over crowdedness and too many children. Like a poison, depression and mass murder and fatal viruses with no known cure began to spread, as though life were taking on the role of death, as well. Bilbo became obsessed - obsessed with destroying what he was forced to create.

It was dark and twisted and wrong, but it was a compulsion, a delusion. It was corrupt and perverse and sick, but he was sick too, sick with something that he inflicted on everything in existence. His distorted mind turned his anguish over the state of the world into an enslaving infatuation with death itself.

And Thorin needed him. Without life, he was not needed, not important. He was nothing. Bilbo relished the fact that he was the very means of Thorin's existence.

Deep down, Thorin might have felt the same way. Bilbo had never stopped to think about it, because he hadn't ever needed to. The world revolved around him, not the other way. It flourished under his care, his _rule,_ and would continue to do so until he changed his tune.

And oh how simple it would be to ruin life. He could change the paths, eradicate mortality and watch the humans whittle away at each other in desperation, like savage dogs. But that would mean no Thorin, so for as long as Thorin dominated his thoughts, life would continue. 

Disturbing, was it not? Such was life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something a little darker (I've read one too many angst fics lately) so I hope this suffices! I have a handful more requests I want to compete from earlier this month and November, I think, and then I want to start writing more holiday-influenced fics ^^
> 
> Today I went to a university event for early-entry applicants, which was fun! I'm awful at mingling, but I did talk to a few people~ It's kind of exciting ^///w///^


	11. Something More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat on Bilbo's floor goes out, but luckily Thorin comes to the rescue. If only he knew how Bilbo felt about him!

Bilbo was frustratingly trying to figure out the old, barely-working heater in his apartment when the power went out. Really, he should have expected it - there was a snowstorm brewing outside and everyone in the building knew the third-floor was the first to crash when the demand for electricity got too high. 

Instantly more miserable, Bilbo let out a shivering groan and began the search for blankets. He knew he should have put in for a transfer to the other campus building, but then he wouldn't see Thorin as often, which was undesirable. He wouldn't say he had a crush on Thorin, mostly because that felt juvenile and embarrassing, but he certainly did like him. He'd even bought Thorin a Christmas present, which was neatly wrapped and sitting under the tiny tree Bilbo kept in an out-of-the-way corner of the living room.

A knock on the door startled him as he was dragging several quilts from his bed. He left them in a wrinkled pile on the floor and shuffled his way to the door, trying not to pout. He rubbed his hands against his sweater-covered arms, and prayed it was the manager coming to promise a quick fix.

Instead, he opened the door to Thorin.

"Ah, hello." Bilbo squawked indignantly, his face lighting up as bright red as his current ugly Christmas sweater of choice. "What brings you up to this floor, Thorin?"

The man offered him an easy-going smile. "I heard the power go out." He explained. "Want to come hang out at mine?"

Bilbo could only nod dumbly. Thorin lived on the first floor, where the power was still prime and perfect. Bilbo had been in his apartment a few times, because they spent time together often, but never this late at night. "Thanks."

Thorin just grinned, a lazy sort of smile that had Bilbo's knees trembling. He really was too handsome for his own good, Bilbo thought, as he followed Thorin down the hallway. It was colder out here than it was in his room, and he shivered a little, tucking his fingers into the hem of his sweater.

Thorin glanced at him curiously, and threw his arm around Bilbo's shoulders. It was heavy and surprisingly warm, which had Bilbo leaning into his side without quite realising what he was doing. 

"I have hot chocolate and movies ready." Thorin said, looking pleased with himself as Bilbo glanced up at him out from under his lashes. "On the laptop, just in case the power goes out."

Bilbo chuckled. "Sounds good to me." He replied breathlessly. 

"I like your sweater, by the way." Thorin remarked cheekily. "Very festive."

Bilbo laughed nervously. "It's ugly, but I like it." He said with a small grin. "I love Christmas!"

"Really? Me too." Thorin smiled. "I hope you don't mind all the decorations."

Much like Bilbo's apartment, Thorin's home was all decked out in Christmas cheer. Tinsel and little red and gold bells decorated surface edges and hung from walls. A pretty wreath sat front and centre on the apartment door, and inside a beautifully decorated Christmas tree sat next to the window in the lounge room. Bilbo felt better just entering the warm space, because it reminded him a lot like his own home. 

"Wow, it looks wonderful." Bilbo exclaimed, grinning as his shivers tapered off. "And your heater works so well!"

Thorin laughed, and rubbed Bilbo's arm affectionately. "I'm glad you like it. Now go make yourself comfortable, I'll grab those hot chocolates and join you in a moment." 

Bilbo took a seat on the lounge and sneakily watched Thorin wander into the kitchen. He really was just so attractive, and Bilbo flushed when he caught himself staring at Thorin's ass like a horny teenager. It was embarrassing, the way he reacted to Thorin, the way his body did. He liked Thorin for more than just his features - in fact, it was Thorin's personality that eventually won him over. 

So his attraction to Thorin wasn't a crush, it was definitely something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write a Pokémon AU for a while (I got a request for one a little while back, too ^^) and I have a few ideas for what Pokémon each character would have, but I would like to know what you think would be the best~ I'm not too sure who will be in the fic yet, but certainly Thorin and Bilbo, and maybe Frodo, Fili, Kili and a few of the other company members?
> 
> Also, if you have any Christmas prompts, feel free to send them my way!


	12. A Far Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo doesn't like being underestimated.

Bilbo let out a yawn as he watched over the Shire from atop his hill. Settled in the overflowing meadow situated a small ways away from his home at Bag-End, Bilbo had the perfect view across Hobbiton. It was green from head to toe, every square inch covered in flora that burst from the ground with vigour. It was a known fact that Hobbiton was the most fertile land in the region, with the most grass-type Pokémon present. It was a peaceful region, with hardly ever a commotion bigger than the half-yearly harvests.

It was a surprise that the Elite Four commissioned a gym in this area. Travellers didn't often journey through the Shire unless they wished to take the scenic (and longer) route to the Blue Mountains or possibly the famous berry farms at the southern bend of the Brandywine River. Alas, a gym was built regardless and new challengers started to flow in. Bilbo's mother, Belladonna, had been placed in charge, but now Bilbo ran the gym and battled the challengers. He had the strongest Pokémon in the Shire, just like his mother had, so it was no wonder the responsibility fell to him. To gain the Leaf Badge, one had to defeat the Shire Gym, and therefore Bilbo. He liked to think of it as a training exercise, if nothing more.

Still, the gym drew unwanted attention to him. Gandalf, a meddling old man with an intimidatingly persuasive Alakazam by his side was often disrupting his time in an attempt to get Bilbo to challenge the Elite Four. He always ranted about how Bilbo could be one of them, but it wasn't the life he wanted. He liked living in the Shire, with all the gentle, native Pokémon. 

A gentle cry of a Pokémon startled him from his reprieve. By his side, his protective Leafeon lifted its head and let out a threatening growl, but it quickly tapered off into silence as Bilbo placed his hand on its head.

"It's just Togekiss." Bilbo reassured with a chuckle. "School is out."

True enough, the big dual-type Pokémon dipped from the sky with an excited sound to land on the hill beside them. It lowered its body to the ground until the little passenger on its back could touch the grass. Frodo slipped off the Pokémon with a grin and dove into Bilbo's arms. 

"Hello, Uncle Bilbo!"

Bilbo smiled and pet Frodo's curly hair gently. "Hello, dear. How was school?"

"Great!" Frodo exclaiming, smiling a smile that was warmer than a sunny day. "I got all the answers right on our test!"

"That's wonderful!"

Frodo grinned. "Can I go and play with Sam today, Uncle Bilbo?"

"I think you deserve that for doing so well." He chuckled, releasing the squirming child. "Go have fun, but be home in time for dinner!"

"I will!" Frodo promised, pressing a wet kiss to Bilbo's cheek. "Thanks, Uncle!"

Bilbo watched his little nephew run off, and sighed. He lifted his hand to pet Togekiss' nose. "Thank you for looking after him." He said, smiling when the Pokémon let out a pleased trill with a little flutter of its large wings. "Would you watch after him again, for me?"

Togekiss let out another happy trill, and after butting Bilbo's forehead with its nose - even going as far to butt Leafeon too, who was none too pleased - it took back off into the sky. Togekiss was Bilbo's Pokémon, but he planned on gifting it to Frodo when the child came of age. He'd raised Togekiss from an egg, but when Frodo had come into Bilbo's life it had taken well to watching after him. Even as a child, Togekiss (who was then only a Togetic) would constantly look after Frodo, making sure he didn't toddle into table corners and catching him if he stumbled. It made sure to keep him away from the Combee out in the fields where Frodo liked to wander, and always guided Frodo to and from school. Bilbo was glad to have met a Pokémon as careful and loving as Togekiss.

Really, all his Pokémon were like that. It may have been why he was drawn to them - his Togekiss, his beautiful Lilligant, his charming Altaria, and of course his absolutely stunning Roselia were all just as strong and loving. His Leafeon was the only exception, but Leafeon was just as caring in its own way.

Bilbo turned to watch his little grass Pokémon. Leafeon was curled up in a patch of sun that slipped through the trees beside Bilbo's leg so that it could photosynthesise. Its long, leaf-life tail was curled possessively over Bilbo's thigh so that it could sense when Bilbo moved. 

Absently, Bilbo rubbed its head. Leafeon had had a rough start to life, so he hoped it was more content now. It was mostly comfortable when alone when Bilbo, and often purred if it were sure no one would hear, though Bilbo was sure it loved Frodo, too. 

"Shall we head across to the gym?" He asked it, tilting his head as it blinked its wide, brown eyes at him. 

Standing, Bilbo stretched his arms above his head and let out another little sigh. Leafeon stood, too, watching Bilbo with keen eyes. As Bilbo set on the small trip towards his gym, the grass Pokémon followed close behind, ears perked high and alert. Bilbo knew he had a challenger this afternoon, and he couldn't possibly be late. Challengers were few and far between, after all. And he knew most challengers didn't think the Shire Gym was much, so he had to make sure to put up a good front.

Unexpectedly, Gandalf was waiting by the front gate. The Shire Gym wasn't built like most gyms - it resembled a garden, and was a long battlefield surrounded by pillared walkways. Long vines crept up the ornamental pillars, and rows of flowers bordered the outer walkways, which acted as a designated viewing area for spectators. It was a beautiful battlefield, he thought, open and spacious and serene. Of course, it meant battles couldn't occur if it rained due to the fact there was no roof above the field itself, but it was lovely regardless.

"And what brings you here?" Bilbo asked as he approached, eyeing Gandalf critically. Leafeon growled a little.

"I know your challenger." Gandalf said. "I encouraged him to come here, actually. I want to watch your battle."

Bilbo frowned. Gandalf never did anything unless he got something out of it, which made him nervous. "What are you up to, old man?" He muttered sourly as he brushed past Gandalf and made his way onto his battlefield. The ground had been repaired and maintained since the last battle, so it was perfect under his bare feet. He took a seat on the bench behind his side of the battlefield, and watched as Leafeon jumped up to take its spot beside him. 

Gandalf moved into the spectators area, and leaned against the railing. "Have you considered my offer anymore?"

"I'm not challenging the Elite Four." Bilbo replied, stretching out under the shade of the large tree that hung over the spectator path. "And I'm not going on a journey to challenge the other gyms." 

Gandalf frowned at him, but chose not to say anything as Leafeon shot a louder growl at him. 

A moment later, his challenger arrived.

Or at least, one of the people pushing past his gate was probably the challenger. They were all male - one was tall and very broad with thick muscles and tattoos, who walked beside a man with similar features and hair that had gone white with age. Behind them were a pair of younger males, one blonde and one a brunette, both of whom wore mischievous smiles. Lastly, ahead of them all, was a handsome man with long hair and broad shoulders. His eyes were blue and narrowed in a way that Bilbo recognised as condescension. Many trainers wore that look, but it didn't made him feel any less annoyed. 

"Welcome," He said politely, standing, "To the Shire Gym."

 _"This_ is the gym?" The brunette asked, looking around inquisitively. 

"This is." Bilbo answered. 

"And you're the gym leader?" The blonde questioned, elbowing his friend when he started to look too curious.

"I am." Bilbo said. "My name is Bilbo Baggins. You are?"

"Fili!" Was the enthusiastic reply.

"And Kili!" The brunette chimed as they both bowed.

"At your service!"

They were brothers, then. Bilbo nodded in acknowledgement, and turned his gaze to the remaining strangers. 

"My name is Balin." The one with white hair told him. "This is my brother Dwalin, and this is Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo's eyes turned to the latter, his eyebrows going up. He'd heard that name before - Thorin ran a gym, all the way up past Esgaroth. Bilbo thought it might have been the Erebor Gym, but he wasn't quite sure. "Let me guess, you're my challenger?"

Thorin eyed him, but nodded. "If you can keep up."

Bilbo frowned. "Is that a challenge?"

"Not much of one."

"Thorin." Balin admonished.

Leafeon jumped to its feet, hackles raised, to snarl at Thorin. Bilbo made no move to stop it, because he'd never met anyone this _rude_ before. Frustratingly, Thorin just seemed to scoff at Leafeon.

"Gandalf, why have you brought me here?" Thorin demanded, turning to face the old man. "This isn't suitable training, not even a challenge! He looks more like a grocer than a gym leader."

Leafeon, angered, leapt forwards and shot an energy ball at Thorin. The sound of a Poké Ball snapping open filled the air as the energy ball connected with a solid mass. A plume of smoke erupted, obscuring his view for a moment. As it cleared, Bilbo was confronted by what looked like a very enraged Aggron.

"You think you can possibly defeat me in my own gym with an attitude like that?" Bilbo said, scowling. "Without even a proper introduction? You must be an awful gym leader to make judgments based on appearance alone."

Thorin narrowed his eyes as his Aggron snarled and braced itself. "Your little grass Pokémon don't stand a chance." He said decisively. 

Leafeon let out a loud, outraged cry. An instant later, Bilbo's Altaria swept into the battlefield, wings outstretched protectively to cast a foreboding shadow across the challengers. It settled behind Bilbo, wings flared, and let out a screech. Leafeon was so riled up it didn't even notice.

"Your Pokémon aren't in their Poké Balls?" Kili asked in surprise.

Bilbo didn't answer, didn't back away from Thorin's challenge. "Are you prepared to battle me?" He demanded. 

Thorin grit his teeth. "As if I would lose to you."

"Then we'll battle." Bilbo said. "But not today. We'll battle on _my_ terms, in _my_ gym. For now, you can find accommodation at the Pokémon Centre. I'll be in touch."

 

"Don't take it personally."

Bilbo scowled, his hands soothing down Leafeon's fur persistently. "Does he act so rude all the time?"

Balin offered a strained laugh. "He is." He said. "He's faced a lot of scrutiny from those associated with the Elite Four, including gym leaders. The Erebor Gym was almost taken from him, and it's been in his family for years. He's very apprehensive around people like you."

"What do you expect me to do?"

Balin hummed. "Battle him, and he'll respect you." Balin said. "Battling is a way for him to connect to everyone on the field, opponent included."

Bilbo didn't answer.

"That Leafeon of yours is quite powerful." Balin remarked. "I've heard they're docile creatures, that prefer not to fight, and yet... it's quite protective. I've never seen anything like it."

Leafeon made a small noise, warning Balin away. It was tiring of his presence, but wouldn't do anything unless the situation or Bilbo commanded it.

"It's just like that." Bilbo replied. "I wouldn't change it for the world, abrasive attitude or not."

Leafeon looked satisfied at Bilbo's words, which made Bilbo smile.

"I'll ask you not to disregard Thorin as a brute just yet." Balin finally said, after another moment of silence. "He'll learn something important from this, just you see."

Bilbo didn't know that man could possibly get from battling him, but he didn't intent to lose to Thorin. No, he'd obliterate him, and prove that the Shire Gym and leaf Pokémon were not to be underestimated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of doing a second part, if there's interest~ Everyone introduced has Pokémon that weren't included in this because I ran out of time to write and post, haha ^^"


	13. A Far Cry Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something unexpected happens.

After feeding all his Pokémon and putting Frodo to bed with Togekiss perched by the window, Bilbo went to take a stroll through the town. Predictably, Leafeon followed close by his feet, scanning the shadows with intelligent and wary eyes. 

"They're a strange bunch, aren't they?" Bilbo sighed as he thought back to the group he'd met earlier in the day. His challenger was arrogant and combative, which was never fun. Bilbo got the distinct feeling that Thorin was strong enough to be able to safely brag as he did. Bilbo had only gotten a quick look at his Aggron, and he knew it was powerful. 

Leafeon let out a determined cry, which made Bilbo chuckle.

"I know you're stronger." He soothed. "But still, he's interesting, don't you think?"

Leafeon seemed to scoff, and rubbed against Bilbo's legs insistently. Bilbo chuckled again, and bent to scoop up the Pokémon. Many times Leafeon had chased off possible suitors, both men and women. Anyone it perceived as getting too close to Bilbo simply wasn't allowed anywhere near him, and Bilbo had a feeling that Thorin would be treated with much the same amount of affection (or lack thereof). Bilbo's interest in the man's battling abilities would put Leafeon on edge, he knew, but there wasn't much that could be done about that. 

Bilbo made his way to his spot on the hill. All the flowers had budded up for the night, but a handful of sleepy Bellossom shuffled over to rest by his legs. Leafeon tolerated their presence, mostly because it was still sat prime and alert on Bilbo's lap. 

Sighing, Bilbo turned his face up to the sky. It was a pleasant night, no clouds visible. Most Pokémon were fast asleep, but in the distance he could still hear the gentle humming of Pokémon winding down for the day. It was a pleasant sound, as many of the Pokémon in this region had lovely voices. His Altaria was a perfect example, with its clear and bell-like singing. 

Leafeon suddenly lifted its head, snarling. Bilbo frowned and glanced up, surveying the hill. A figure was approaching, but Bilbo recognised it. He held Leafeon back as Kili approached, looking around curiously.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Kili squeaked in surprise, his eyes darting to Bilbo. "I didn't see you there, Mr Boggins!"

"Baggins." Bilbo admonished lightly. "You didn't answer my question."

"Ah, well." Kili, if possible, looked a little flushed. He didn't seem as rowdy without his brother around. "I heard that this town has a lot of grass type Pokémon, and Pokémon that are really different to the ones at Erebor. I wanted to see them."

Bilbo had never seen someone look so apologetic for being openly curious. It wasn't often that people were interested in the Shire and it's Pokémon. Bilbo found Kili's inquisitive eyes to be quite refreshing. "Have you ever seen Bellossom?"

Kili gulped, and shook his head. His fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket as his eyes wandered from the Bellossom and back to Bilbo. 

"Come, have a seat." Bilbo offered, even as Leafeon growled. 

Kili hesitantly lowered himself to his knees in front of Bilbo. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shone with so much curiosity that Bilbo felt his heart ache a little.

"Bellossom like to gather into groups to dance and chant. It's said that their dances can bring sunlight. Their petals rub together to make pretty, relaxing sounds." Bilbo said, gently scooping up one of the slumbering Pokémon into his arms. It hardly stirred, not even when Bilbo rubbed its head gently. "Would you like to hold it?"

Kili nodded, and shakily held his arms out.

"Make sure to hold it steadily." Bilbo instructed, passing the Bellossom over to him.

A small, surprised noise came out of Kili's mouth as he cradled the Bellossom carefully. "It's adorable." He said, grinning. "I've never seen a Pokémon this pretty!"

Bilbo chuckled. "Most Pokémon are beautiful, in their own way." He said. "But Bellossom are particularly cute, aren't they?"

Kili grinned broadly. He had dimples in his cheeks. "Do you have a Bellossom?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, I only have five Pokémon, but most of the Pokémon in this city would battle for me." He said. "They're all remarkable friendly, even without being caught."

"What other Pokémon are here?"

Bilbo hummed. "Well, there's Combee and Budew and Ralts, and Bellossom of cause. Swablu often fly in, but only if the season is right. There are Petilil at the furthest end of the forest, along with Cherubi. Cotonee and Deerling are in the forest, too. There are a lot of normal types as well, like Zigzagoon and Skitty."

"That's a lot of mixed region Pokémon." Kili remarked.

Bilbo chuckled. "It is." He agreed. "They're drawn in by the fertile lands here, and any Pokémon that love to live in forests are drawn here by the Celebi."

"There's a Celebi here?" Kili gaped.

Bilbo laughed, and nodded. "Yes, though it doesn't appear often. Many years ago our village was almost destroyed by frost that had made everything infertile and unliveable. The Celebi appeared and saved us."

"That's amazing." Kili breathed. "I love it here already!"

Bilbo smiled. "I'm glad." He said. "Do you not have Pokémon like this at your town?"

Kili shook his head. "Erebor is full of rock-type and ground-type Pokémon." He said. "Geodude and Machop everywhere! They help with excavating the mines."

"They must be tough."

"They are." Kili said bashfully. "I've never been compatible with those types of Pokémon, not like Uncle and everyone else is."

"Uncle?"

"Thorin, he's my mother's brother."

Bilbo made a small, surprised noise.

"Everyone kind of looks down on Pokémon like this." Kili said, glancing at the slumbering Bellossom in his arms. "It's hard for grass type Pokémon to beat rock type and ground type, not because of type endurance or anything, but..." Kili shrugged.

Bilbo understood. Those types of Pokémon were known for being sturdy, with good endurance. It was best to have a type advantage over them.

"What Pokémon do you have?" He asked.

"Ah, right." Kili reached a hand back to dig into his bag, and brought out two Pokéballs. He tossed them in the air, and in a flash of red light two small Pokémon appeared. 

The first was a Meowstic, a small Pokémon with predominantly white fur and big ears. The second was a little, pale blue Nidoran that let out an excited cry as it was released. Their colouring told Bilbo that both were female. 

"I didn't expect you to have a Meowstic and Nidoran." Bilbo said. "Where did you possibly find an Espurr?" He knew Nidoran were relatively easy to find, as they were a poison type, but Espurr, the previous evolution to Meowstic, were not. "They're quite powerful."

"Two were found after an ancient passage collapsed in the mountain." Kili said as he gently put the Bellossom back down beside Bilbo in favour of picking up his silent Meowstic. "They were injured, and because the collapsed passage took priority they were given to Fili and I to look after."

Bilbo smiled. "Let me guess, Fili's is male?"

Kili grinned impishly. "His Nidoran, too."

"So you have matching Pokémon!"

Kili nodded. "We do everything together." He said fondly. "Even though he's five years older than me, we've always stuck together. We got our Pokémon at the same time, too. One day he's going to take over the gym, I know, but..."

"You want to stay together." Bilbo sighed. "Does he share you love of gentle Pokémon?"

Kili laughed. "Not really! He wants to own an Aggron like Uncle one day."

"But you don't." Bilbo deduced. _Your loyalty to your brother and the scorn from your kin is why you don't have a grass type Pokémon, even though you want one._

Kili nodded. "I should be getting back." He said, standing. "Thanks for talking to me! Come on, guys."

Bilbo watched quietly as Kili wandered away with his Pokémon. "He really loves the Pokémon here, doesn't he?" Bilbo asked his Leafeon, who had finally stopped looking so aggressive now that Kili was gone. "He's good with them, too."

Leafeon merely scowled, and trilled.

Bilbo chuckled. "You're not fond of him, I know." He said. "I like him. His uncle, not so much!"

 

The next day, Bilbo showed up to his gym nice and early. He found Gandalf and Balin already conversing as their Pokémon relaxed in the adjoining meadow. He recognised Gandalf's Alakazam, but Balin's Pokémon was one he hadn't seen before. A quick check on his Pokédex revealed it to be an Aurorus, a Pokémon revived from a fossil. 

Fili and Kili arrived next, Thorin in tow, and instantly released their Pokémon into the field, too. It was a nice day, and Pokémon from the forest expectedly started to filter out to play with the new strangers. 

"Ready for our battle?" Bilbo asked, standing from his seat as he took his place on the field.

Thorin grunted, and took his place too. 

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Gandalf, will you officiate? Make yourself useful."

Gandalf huffed at him, but moved to stand in the middle of the field. "This will be a three-on-three battle. It will be over when all Pokémon on one side are defeated. Shall we begin?"

Bilbo grinned, and reached for his waistcoat pocket, where he kept his Poké Balls. He'd returned his Pokémon to them just for the morning, for formalities sake, though his Leafeon remained outside. He expanded the ball, and was about to toss it into the air when a large rumbling sound shocked him. 

"What was that?" Kili cried as he scooped up his Nidoran when it cowered behind his feet.

Bilbo grit his teeth, and forcefully tossed the Poké Ball in his hand. "Togekiss!" He called as the Poké Ball snapped open. He knew that rumbling sound, knew it meant no good. 

Togekiss appeared in the air above Bilbo with a loud, dominant cry. It spread its wings, and stared at Bilbo, waiting for command.

"Find Frodo!" He instructed. "Keep him safe!"

Togekiss let out another cry, and flew off with a startling amount of speed. 

Bilbo turned to Thorin. "Take your company straight to the Pokémon centre." He commanded, voice leaving no room for arguing. "Don't wander!"

"What's going on?" Thorin demanded. 

"Groups of Scyther and Houndoom have been testing the edges of the Shire for days. They're under the control of a man named Azog, he's determined to steal something important from here and I can't let him. Do as I said, and go to the Pokémon Centre. You'll be safe there."

"You can't expect to defeat Azog the Defiler on your own." Thorin snarled. "I know that man, know his power. You cannot defeat him alone!"

Bilbo paused for a moment, and then smirked. He threw out his arms, and on command his Pokémon burst forth in a flurried display of strength and ferocity from their Poké Balls. "I'm not alone, Thorin Oakenshield." He stated. "I'd like to see Azog try and defeat me!"

 

The explosion came from the direction of the school, so Bilbo went in that direction. He was confronted by the people of the Shire screaming and running in all directions, which made him grit his teeth. "Leafeon!"

The grass Pokémon let out a giant cry that reverberated through the streets. Instantly, Bilbo had the people's attention.

"Head to the Pokémon Centre." He instructed, pointing them in the right direction. "I'll handle this!"

With the people and their Pokémon moving in the right direction, it was easier for him to get to the school yard. He lifted his Roselia from the ground so that it wouldn't get trampled, as it was the smallest of his Pokémon, and deposited it on Altaria's back as they reached the school. 

Several Scyther and Houndoom had destroyed the garden and play equipment. Bilbo felt his heart leap when he realised there were still children trapped inside, cowering behind his Togekiss that growled and cried as anything moved close to it. Togekiss was a Pokémon that didn't appear where strife was present - it only appeared in peaceful regions, so he knew it was unsettled and deeply uncomfortable. 

"Togekiss, use Hyper Voice!" Bilbo instructed. 

Togekiss responded instantly, letting out an echoing cry from its mouth in a beam of white and grey shockwaves. The Scyther and Houndoom in range cringed, covering their ears as they were blown over by the blast. 

Several Houndoom countered with a powerful blast of fire that Bilbo knew to be Heat Wave. He knew it was strong against his Pokémon due to type disadvantage, which made him frustrated. "Roselia, counter with Petal Dance! Lilligant, you too!"

Whirlwinds of petals filled the air, spiralling to collide with the Heat Waves in mid-air. A burst of smoke expanded at the collision point, and out of it leapt a pair of Scyther. Their bladed arms glowed with X-Scissor.

"Leafeon, counter it with Leaf Blade!"

Leafeon snarled and leapt forwards. It's tail and the leaf on its forehead started to glow as it slammed the Leaf Blade into the Scyther's X-Scissors. 

"Again!" Bilbo shouted.

Leafeon twisted, disarming one Scyther with its tail before using the Leaf Blade from its forehead on the other, which struggled against it before jumping back. The smoke cleared, and Bilbo clenched his fists as he took a proper look at his opponents. There were four Houndoom, and four Scyther, but Azog was no where to be seen. He likely sent in his Pokémon to test Bilbo's boundaries.

"Togekiss, get the children out of here!" Bilbo commanded. He turned to his Lilligant, and held its dark green arms. "Lilligant, help Togekiss, alright? Your flower will relax the children, you know just everyone admires its beautiful scent."

Lilligant trilled at the praise, and smoothly did as asked. Under Bilbo's critical gaze, the children were ushered away, carefully tucked under Togekiss' expansive wings.

Suddenly Altaria cried out as the Houndoom surged forwards, their fangs glowing. Bilbo knew the attack to be Super Fang.

Out of nowhere, a familiar roar echoed through the yard and an avalanche of rocks slammed down atop the Houndoom. Bilbo held his arm up to shield his eyes from the resulting dust cloud caused by Rock Slide, and whipped around to spot Aggron bracing itself threateningly beside him.

"I thought I told you to go to the Pokémon Centre!" Bilbo snapped.

"You need my help!" Thorin snarled.

"I don't!" Bilbo replied.

"Look out!"

Leafeon let out a cry as it used Quick Attack to force away the Scyther that darted through the air. Bilbo ducked to shield his Roselia. "Stun Spore!" He shouted over the noise of the battle. Roselia flung out its flowering arms to release a shower of orange pollen that clouded in the air. The pair of Scyther fell to the ground, screeching, as they were paralysed. 

He lifted his head. Another Houndoom was rushing forwards. "Altaria, use Dragon Breath!"

Altaria released a beam of translucent energy surrounded by white rings at the Houndoom, which was thrown backwards. It hit the ground and remained there, making Altaria cry in victory. 

A pained roar had his head twisting around. A pair of Scyther were using Vacuum Wave on Aggron, who stood to bear it. The move was a fighting type move, which dealt significant damage to Aggron. Bilbo could see it weakening. 

"Altaria, use Perish Song!" He commanded. 

Altaria flared its wings and jolted into the air where it released a series of crimson waves imbued with a single, drawn-out note. The Houndoom and Scyther collapse as the crimson static washes over them. Perish Song was a powerful move - any Pokémon that heard it would faint within a few turns, which sometimes included Altaria and Bilbo's other Pokémon themselves. He didn't use it often for that reason, but this was important.

"Alright, Roselia use Petal Dance to keep them down!"

Roselia let out a cry as a flurry of abrasive petals filled the air. The opponents were pinned to the ground until Perish Song took affect a moment later, and only then did Roselia let up its attacks.

"Roselia, use Ingrain to keep them trapped until the Office gets here." Bilbo instructed. Altaria began to descend, looking worn. He let it settle across his shoulders for support, even though it was quite big. After Roselia had finished his command, he picked it up. It was exhausted as well.

"Bring your Aggron to the Pokémon Centre." Bilbo instructed Thorin, who returned his Pokémon to its Poké Ball. "Thank you for helping me."

Thorin seemed startled at his thanks, like he didn't know what to say. He just nodded, and followed after Bilbo as Bilbo lugged his Pokémon towards the Pokémon Centre. Altaria was starting to slow, its wings looking heavy, which worried him. Perish Song was not a nice move. 

Thorin lifted an arm, moving closer to support Altaria who trilled in surprise. Bilbo shot him a thankful look, his brows creased as he cradled his Roselia a little tighter. Thorin was broad enough and strong enough to support Altaria better than he could. 

They'd have to move their battle date, but Bilbo didn't care. 

He'd seen a side of Thorin he hadn't thought existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out much longer than expected... I still have more I want to write for this, though~ Dwalin still needs to introduce his Pokémon, and Thorin still has two undisclosed as well~ I've also planned for Kili to gain another one, with Bilbo's help of course! I hope there's still interest ^^"


	14. A Far Cry Pt.III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reveals more about his Leafeon to an unexpected listener.

It was chaos at the Pokémon Centre. The nurse and her Audino were doing as best as they could to quell the fear and organise the Pokémon and people, but Bilbo could see they were struggling. It didn't help that everyone became uneasy when he struggled to carry his weary Pokémon through the door. 

His Togekiss screeched and flew over as soon as it caught sight of him, and rubbed its nose against Bilbo's cheek as it made small whimpers.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He soothed. Thorin watched with curious eyes, but Bilbo ignored him. "Where's Frodo, Togekiss?"

"Uncle!"

Bilbo gently passed his Roselia onto Togekiss' back so that his arms were free to catch the child that flung himself into them. "Frodo." He sighed in relief, lifting his nephew as Frodo clung to his neck. The boy was trembling, and kept his face stuffed in the crook of Bilbo's neck. 

"Alright." Bilbo shifted Frodo until the child was held on his hip, and made his way forcefully through the crowd to assess the situation. "Injured Pokémon will be brought to this door." He called, standing by the door that led to the surgery rooms. "Pokémon that are in their Poké Balls will be brought to me and placed on the trays. Anyone not injured will make their way back to their homes, and anyone residing in the Pokémon Centre will be temporarily relocated to the gym grounds until later tonight when the centre clears."

The nurse sent him a thankful look as she directed all the injured Pokémon into the appropriate area. 

Bilbo turned to Thorin. "Take your Aggron through those doors first." He said, before turning away. He moved to take the nurse's place behind the reception counter and pulled out the trays as people formed a line to give him their Poké Balls. He was careful to catalogue them as best he could with a single hand, as he was reluctant to put down Frodo when he was so obviously ruffled.

His Leafeon stayed by his feet the entire time, restless and flooded with adrenaline that would have it somewhat aggressive for the remainder of the night. Bilbo would be sure to care for it as soon as they made it home.

 

It was very late when he finally went home. After carefully tucking away Frodo and consoling his frazzled Togekiss, who dutifully curled up beside Frodo on the bed rather than by the window, he made his way back downstairs to care for his other Pokémon.

The nurse had taken priority with his Pokémon, and they'd been healed and ready to go home with an hour. Bilbo let them rest at the Pokémon Centre for a few hours longer, regardless, while he finished up his duties. Now they were settled on his armchair, piled atop one another in what looked like a very comfortable cuddle pile. Altaria was nestled on the seat, its voluptuous, cloud-like fluff becoming the perfect resting place for his little Roselia and Leafeon. Lilligant was settled against the arm of the chair, looking rather sleepy, with one of Altaria's wings over its legs like a blanket. 

Bilbo sighed and wandered over to crouch beside his armchair. "How are you all?" He murmured, reaching out to pet Altaria's wings and the red flower atop Lilligant's head. He received a handful of sleepy chirps and trills, and chuckled when Leafeon lifted its head to don a rather petulant expression when it noticed exactly where it had curled up. Leafeon wasn't often affectionate with Bilbo's other Pokémon, even though it battled beside them spectacularly. Bilbo supposed that its battle style was how it showed its feelings.

His Roselia, which had in fact been sleeping, lifting its head and let out an inquiring cry. Bilbo scooped the little thing up, sighing once more as he settled on the floor to rest against the armchair. Roselia burrowed into his arms, holding its flowers close to its chest as it quickly fell asleep. Of all his Pokémon, Roselia was most likely the most resilient. After the initial shock of it all, it was never fazed by the situation again. Rather, it seemed to completely disregard any previous feelings of fright or anger. His Altaria and Lilligant still lingered on those feelings, and Leafeon was angry and disgruntled for days afterwards. It became completely possessive of Bilbo, and his Togekiss just seemed to become a little more quiet for a day or so.

"Time for bed, then." He said, standing once more. Altaria just cooed quietly, and lowered its head. Bilbo slipped Roselia back onto it's fluffy wings, where he knew it would sleep for the night. Lilligant too seemed asleep, but Leafeon followed him to his room as it always did. 

It was a very faithful Pokémon.

 

Early the next morning, Bilbo woke to a strange sound. His Leafeon was fidgeting on the pillow beside him, its face scrunched up as harsh breathes escaped its jaws.

Bilbo sat up, instantly concerned. He placed his hand on Leafeon's back in an attempt to rouse it, but as soon as he touched it the Pokémon startled frightfully, letting out a yowl as it slashed through the air blindly with Leaf Blade.

"Leafeon!" 

It stopped instantly, eyes wavering as it lifted its head to glance at Bilbo, clearly panicked. 

"Come here." Bilbo sighed, opening up his arms. When Leafeon didn't move, he reached across to lift it, heart aching when it merely whimpered quietly and sunk into its shoulders. It expected to be scowled, to be yelled at and degraded. Not for the first time, Bilbo felt intense feelings of frustration and anger towards its original owner. "How about we go for a walk?"

The sky was dark and silent as Bilbo wandered towards the meadow with his Leafeon in tow. The Pokémon watched his face critically, but Bilbo didn't meet its eyes. Instead, he stared ahead determinedly, knowing that his actions would convey a sense of strength and confidence towards the trembling Pokémon in his arms. 

The field was quiet and empty when he reached the top of the hill. A small breeze ruffled the grass and the leaf on Leafeon's forehead. It tangled through Bilbo's curls, and brought a refreshing taste to his lungs. 

"Don't be scared about it." He finally said, turning his eyes to his Pokémon. "You're my partner forever, aren't you? Remember our promise?"

Leafeon whined, and lifted a paw to press against Bilbo's cheek. It remembered.

Bilbo smiled. "I'll never give you up." Bilbo said. "I know you fear that, that it haunts your dreams, and I'm sorry that I can't chase them away. I feel anguish at your sadness, and I'm sorry that I can't stop them. I'm a failure of a trainer, aren't I?"

Leafeon cried out in disagreement, twisting in Bilbo's arms to huddle against his chest.

Bilbo held it closer a little more. "I'm sorry, Leafeon." He said. "You deserve much more than I can give you, and yet I keep you by my side, bound by emotions that you cannot control. It's selfish of me to act this way, but I'll try my hardest to create a world where you no longer agonise over past hurts. I'm going to do all I can to make sure what happened to you never happens again. It will never happen by my hands, Leafeon, so don't be scared anymore."

Leafeon made a small noise. It sounded tired, and was easily rocked to sleep by the gentle breeze and the warmth of Bilbo's arms. 

"What happened to it?"

Bilbo held back a flinch, and turned narrowed eyes across at Thorin, who'd snuck up on him.

Thorin raised his hands. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I heard your voice."

Bilbo couldn't blame him for following the sound of his voice, so he sighed and glanced away. "I'm not Leafeon's first trainer." He said.

Thorin remained politely silent.

"Leafeon's previous trainer... they raised Leafeon from a young age, when it was only an Eevee." He whispered. "Eevee have several different type-evolutions, and Leafeon's trainer became angered when it revolved into a grass type. It berated Leafeon, called it so many cruel things, treated it harshly... They ordered their other Pokémon to attack Leafeon, driving it away. Leafeon are passive Pokémon, they prefer not to fight, but..." He took a struggling breath.

"But...?"

"Leafeon was badly injured." Bilbo murmured. "It had only just evolved, and the evolution took it by surprise. It was disorientated and in a new body and its beloved trainer was acting like it was nothing more than scum. To top it off, the trainer abandoned Leafeon, destroyed it's Poké Ball. Just like that, Leafeon lost everything it had ever known."

Thorin's expression twisted in anger. _"What?"_

Bilbo nodded in silent agreement. "I've never seen a Pokémon more destroyed. It was like all the life had been sucked out of it. My heart has never ached as much as it did the moment I realised Leafeon hated itself more than it hated its previous trainer. It thought that everything that had happened was its own fault, that it was a failure, that it was ugly and weak and worthless and deformed. Like it wasn't the right thing, the right Pokémon. It couldn't believe that I was in love with grass types."

"Even I can see that." Thorin muttered.

Bilbo nodded again. "I'd never seen a more beautiful Leafeon. I'd always wanted one, but I prefer to let the Eevee decide what evolution it wants to evolve into. When I came across this Leafeon, it was like everything had fallen into place. I felt so lucky to find one like this, I couldn't understand why anyone would treat it like a pest. I was so angry I almost completely forgot about helping Leafeon because I was just _angry_ at its trainer."

He lowered his eyes to watch over his Leafeon. Talking about its past brought up tumultuous feelings that made him feel dizzy and ill.

"That's why it's so protective of you." Thorin realised. "Because it's scared you'll leave it, and that you're the only one who will ever love it."

Bilbo laughed humourlessly. "It took so _long_ to gain Leafeon's affections." He said. "It couldn't understand that I wanted it to become my partner. It looked at me like I was crazy, because it just couldn't comprehend that someone wanted it after it had been so maliciously abandoned. The moment it clicked that I was serious and honest, Leafeon refused to leave my side. I haven't lost sight of it since then, not even to return it to its Poké Ball. It's still terrified I'll leave it if it loses sight of me, or if it's not strong enough. That possessive feeling makes it scared that something will _take_ me from it."

Thorin looked at Leafeon forlornly. "How sad."

Bilbo sighed. "I wish I could do more to quell its fears."

"I think you've done a lot." Thorin said. "It's hard to tame Pokémon that had been so badly damaged, and yet yours seems healthy and content, most of the time."

Bilbo smiled at him softly. "See, you don't truly hate grass type Pokémon." He teased.

"I never said I did." Thorin said, looking affronted.

"It's the way you and your kin act." Bilbo said. "I'm hoping our battle tomorrow will change that."

Thorin frowned, and looked as though he were carefully choosing his words. "Grass Pokémon aren't as needed in the mountains as they are here." He finally said. "There is no type advantage, either."

"I'm not criticising you." Bilbo replied. "Rather, I will show you a side to them you haven't seen."

"Convincing me will be simple." Thorin said. "A battle proves everything. Convincing my kin... They'll never value the Pokémon from this town as much as they do theirs."

Bilbo smiled. "Convincing you is the first step." He said, as he started to make his way down the path. "I'll see you tomorrow, Thorin. Goodnight."

 

It rained.

_Of course it rained!_

Bilbo stared at the damp field with a rising amount of frustration. It would be no good to battle on until the afternoon, at least. 

"Probably for the best." Dwalin muttered to his kin. More had appeared that morning, eager to see the battle. Bilbo had only hear their names - Gloin, Oin, Nori and Bofur - in passing.

"Grass type can't battle on a damp field? How predictable."

"Well, it just stalls the inevitable."

"Thorin will win, you'll see. How can he not? Did you see that little grass thing following after the gym leader?"

"Aye, he's tiny himself!"

Bilbo was sick of it. He could understand them underestimating him - _everyone_ did - but not his Pokémon! They were his pride and joy, and he would not have anyone insulting them under his watch. 

"Leafeon, use Sand Attack."

Leafeon let out a cry and leapt through the air, twisting to kick plumes of thick dust over the Erebor visitors. Outcries instantly filled the air, but Leafeon's ferocious snarl quickly had them taking a step back.

"Kili!" Bilbo shouted.

"Y-Yes, Mr Boggins?" Kili stammered, bolting upright.

"Come with me." Bilbo commanded, turning on his heel to stalk away angrily. "And bring your Poké Balls!"

"R-Right." Kili clumsily scooped up his bag and eagerly followed after Bilbo, ignoring his brother's concerned hand. 

"Oi, where do you think you're going?" Dwalin demanded.

_"To catch him a Shire Pokémon!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, no one else's Pokémon were revealed, as I had expected... But I ran out of time tonight, as my writing time was cut short by another engagement~
> 
> I'm really enjoying this AU, though ^^ I've never done a four-part series, but there's more to this AU I had planned to get done...


	15. A Far Cry Pt.IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo helps Kili connect with a new Pokémon.

"Are you really going to help me catch a Pokémon, Mr Boggins?" Kili asked, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with excitement as he hurried behind Bilbo.

"Of course." Bilbo replied. "I'm sick of all the doubt towards my Pokémon. Just you wait, your Pokémon will infiltrate their home and prove its worth in no time!" He cackled. "After I crush your Uncle in our battle, they'll all have no choice but to revaluate their opinions of me and my Pokémon."

Kili laughed. "You're unexpectedly devious!" He grinned. 

"My dear, I'm a gym leader." Bilbo replied. "It's in the job description!"

Kili just grinned wider. "So what Pokémon are we going to find?" He asked energetically. "Something powerful, right?"

"All Pokémon have the capacity to become powerful with the proper training." Bilbo said. "We're going to find something that suits you and your training style, not the other way around. That way your Pokémon will be amenable to your needs and receptive to your instructions. Finding and catching an unwilling Pokémon never leads to anything good, you know."

Kili stared at him, awed. "You sound so smart." He said. "Not like Uncle at all!"

Bilbo felt a strange little sense of satisfaction at that, but he shook it away. "Our battle styles are fundamentally different." He explained. "I think your Uncle relies on brute force and past experience to overcome challengers. It's a very sound strategy, I'll give him that. I'm at a disadvantage, considering I've never seen his Pokémon nor a battle he's particularly partaken in."

"What's your strategy, then?" Kili asked with a small frown as they climbed across a fallen tree. "I've never really understood strategies and all that."

Bilbo hummed. "It comes with experience." He said. "Many challengers come to me with a flurry of fire type Pokémon, or Pokémon with little experience. In that sense, I have no choice but to play with type disadvantages. My Pokémon aren't all grass types, you know. My strategy generally centres around navigating type disadvantages, but I feel like that won't be the case for my battle with your Uncle."

Kili looked down for a moment. "His Pokémon are strong." He said. "Lots of challengers come to our gym to battle him, and a lot leave without the Mountain Badge."

"I expect not less." Bilbo nodded. "Your Uncle battles to understand other people, doesn’t he? His Pokémon reflect him in return… I'm still going to beat him."

Kili laughed. "Why did Gandalf organise this anyway? I mean, he seems the type to have ulterior motives."

"Oh, he most certainly does." Bilbo muttered sourly. "He keeps trying to get me go off on adventures! The nerve of him."

"Why don't you?" Kili asked. "Go on an adventure, that is. Gym leaders close down their gyms for short periods of time a lot."

Bilbo sighed. "I've had my adventures, Kili." He said. "I have responsibilities here, not just the gym. Frodo is under my care, and there are things in the Shire that bad people like Azog desperately want. I have to protect them, not for the entire world, but for my own." He said, reaching down to pet Leafeon's head affectionately. He'd do anything to keep his family safe. He couldn't understand why Gandalf wouldn't see it that way.

"You're a lot different than I first expected." Kili suddenly said.

"What did you expect?"

Kili just grins at him.

_What a strange child..._

 

By midday, they'd made it to the area Bilbo had chosen. Pokémon were plentiful here - in fact, they'd already passed a herd of Deerling and a tree full of inquisitive Burmy. Bilbo had a faint idea of what he wanted Kili to catch, if he was agreeable, but he wanted to find the perfect one.

Kili seemed enamoured with all the Pokémon that came out to greet them. He positively beamed when a flock of Hoppip drifted past their heads, and had his Pokédex out to catalogue every Oddish they passed. Bilbo was pleased to see that the Pokémon were quite receptive to him, too. He thought of how different Kili would be if he had grown up in the Shire instead of Erebor, how many Pokémon he'd have, how many of them would love him even if they didn't belong to one of his Poke Balls. He truly felt like Kili fit in perfectly here, even if his home was deep in a mountain.

"What am I going to catch, Mr Boggins?" Kili asked him as they stopped to snack on the sweet berries that grew in the forest. 

"Just Bilbo." He said, sighing on a laugh. "I have an idea of what would suit you, but it's ultimately your choice. Do you have a preference?"

Kili thought for a moment, but then shook his head. A strand of brown hair fell between his eyes, but was quickly brushed away. "As long as it gets along with my Meowstic and Nidoran, I don't mind! What do you think I should catch?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, your Uncle was right when he said that grass type Pokémon weren't as well equipped to handle the conditions of Erebor as other Pokémon are." Bilbo said. "But not every Pokémon in the Shire is a grass type, you see. There are many normal type, poison type and some psychic type Pokémon here too, and dual-types as well. If you get close to the Brandywine River there are water type Pokémon too."

Kili just listened on in an excited state of silence. 

Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. It was certainly refreshing. "I'm thinking that a dual-type between psychic and fairy would be good for you." He said. 

"Wow." Kili smiled broadly. "Where do I find a Pokémon like that?"

Bilbo smiled, placating. "You don't." He said. "You let it find you."

Kili gave him a puzzled look. "How am I meant to draw in a Pokémon?" He asked, voice quiet with concern.

Bilbo chuckled. "Just be yourself!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "I wouldn't have even considered the Pokémon I have in mind if I wasn't confident about it appearing. Just you wait, I know these Pokémon better than anyone. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised!"

And really, Bilbo was sure Kili's charisma would draw it in. The young thing exuded energy and happiness in spades, even if he was quite mischievous around his brother. Bilbo had no doubt that Kili's vibrant attitude would draw in curious Pokémon. 

He tried not to grin when Leafeon's head lifted tellingly. Kili was too busy nibbling on berries to notice the little Pokémon shyly shuffling out from beneath the bushes.

"Kili." Bilbo whispered quietly, a smile overtaking his lips as he glanced pointedly behind him.

"Hmm?" Kili glanced up at him, and tilted his head to the side. "What is it?"

"Behind you." Bilbo said. "Be gentle."

Kili's eyes widened, and he slowly turned his head around. He looked positively delighted at the sight of the little Pokémon peering up at him cautiously.

"It's... it's so cute!" Kili whispered excitedly. "What is it, Bilbo?"

"It's a Ralts." Bilbo said, crouching to slowly offer the shy Pokémon a small berry. "It's a psychic and fairy type."

Kili hardly seemed to be able to contain his excitement. The Ralts reacted well to Kili's emotions, and let out a little trilling noise as it took a few tentative steps forwards. 

"See those horns on its head? It uses them to read emotions." Bilbo said as the Ralts trilled happily again, and held its arms out to Kili. "It doesn't normally show itself to humans, and neither do its evolutions. However, if it happens to sense happy feelings, it'll approach people."

"Really?" Kili asked as he picked up the Ralts to cradle it in his arms. "That's so amazing! It can do all that?"

Bilbo chuckled. "It can. When it has a cheerful trainer, they reflect joyous emotions. When Ralts senses warm feelings, people have even said its body will become warmer."

Kili grinned down at the Ralts. "That's so cool!" 

Bilbo smiled faintly. "Now, if a Ralts senses hostility, it will hide, so be careful around it. Your positive disposition has drawn this one in, so I'm sure you'll be able to care for it."

"This is the Pokémon you wanted me to catch?" Kili asked, surprised. "You really think I could train one properly?"

"Of course I do." Bilbo said firmly. "You're very well received by these Pokémon, you know. Most people that come through here don't give them the time of day, but look at how happy you're making that Ralts."

Kili glanced down at it. The Ralts was grinning up at him, looking completely lost in its own little world. 

"Ask it if it wants to travel with you." Bilbo suggested. "Ask if it wants to meet your other Pokémon."

Kili nodded in determination, and looked at the Ralts. "Did you hear that, Ralts?" He asked gently. "I'm going on a journey! Would you like to come with me?"

The Ralts cried happily, enthralled by Kili's excitement. 

"Oh, you're just too cute!" Kili grinned. "Does that mean you'll come with me?"

Ralts nodded, and trilled happily when Kili let out a shout of delight. 

"I'm so glad!" Kili beamed. He reached for the Poké Ball Bilbo had told him to bring, and very gently tapped it against the Ralts' forehead. In a flash of red, the Ralts was caught. He brought it out again a moment later. "I want you to meet my other Pokémon, Ralts!"

Bilbo watched in amused silence as Kili introduced his other two Pokémon to the new addition. His Meowstic seemed as apathetic as usual, acting calm and collected and unfazed, but Bilbo could see it accepted the Ralts with no problem. Kili's Nidoran was much more animated in its excitement, though the little Ralts didn't seem to mind.

"That Ralts is a female." Bilbo said. "Which means it will eventually evolve into a Gardevoir."

"Does a male evolve differently?"

Bilbo nodded. "All Ralts evolve into Kirlia. They grow much more beautiful when exposed to positive emotions from its trainer, much like a Ralts. Their brains become much more powerful as they evolve, too, and Kirlia love to spin and dance when they're happy. A female Kirlia will evolve into a Gardevoir, while a male will evolve into a Gallade. I thought that considering your tendency to females and the fact that Ralts has two final evolutions, it left something for your brother to match, in case he ever wanted to."

Kili gave him a thankful smile. "Thank you, Bilbo. This Ralts is just perfect."

"Gardevoir and Gallade can mega evolve, too." Bilbo added. "Gardevoir can sense when its trainer is in danger, and will use its psychic powers to protect their trainer by distorting dimensions and creating small black holes. They can see the future, too. I've heard that they don't feel the pull of gravity because they use their powers to support themselves. They're very powerful, and extremely protective."

"How amazing." Kili said, awed, as he stared down at his Ralts. "To think such a little thing could become so powerful..."

Bilbo chuckled. “Raise it right, and it’ll become the most powerful Pokémon in the entire mountain!”

 

Returning to the Shire was a strange experience. Those from Erebor were somewhat condescending towards Kili, though only for a moment. No one could say a word against him as he bravely and proudly showed off his new Pokémon, telling them all the things Bilbo had told him. It was endearing to watch.

“Will that little thing really become so powerful?”

“It will.” Bilbo said, ignoring Leafeon’s growls towards Thorin. “Our Shire Pokémon are all powerful, but Gardevoir… well, they’re in another league, aren’t they? They can create _black holes.”_

Thorin looked disgruntled. “No one at the mountain will accept it.” He said. He sounded almost regretful, so Bilbo didn’t allow himself to become agitated.

“Then make them.” He finally said, turning to meet Thorin’s eyes fixedly. “Make them accept it.”

Thorin watched his face for a moment, before donning a smug expression. “You’re certainly proving to be a surprise.” He stated. “I didn’t expect you to have such a backbone.”

“People don’t seem to expect much from me at all.” Bilbo muttered, frowning in the direction of Thorin’s kin. “Ready to battle me, Oakenshield?”

Thorin snorted. “I know you mean to be intimidating, but I’m tempted to laugh.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Go ahead, I’ll forgive you this once.” He teased. “But I _will_ beat you, Thorin. I’ve got a lot to prove, and Pokémon that are more than willing.”

Thorin smiled. It was a charming and devilish look that made Bilbo startle as heat filled his belly. Thorin hardly seemed to notice the effect he had on Bilbo with that smile. “I find myself looking forward to this, Bilbo Baggins.” He said as he stood to draw himself to his full, formidable height. “Show me who you are.”

 

“This will be a three-on-three battle.” Gandalf said. “Each trainer will use three Pokémon, and the battle will continue until all three from one side can no longer battle. No substitutions. Ready to go?”

Thorin nodded.

“I’m ready.” Bilbo grinned. Leafeon cried in agreement beside him, practically vibrating with energy.

Gandalf nodded. “Then begin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide if I wanted to write the battle or not, and the matchup between their Pokémon is all muddled in my head ಠ_ಠ I also couldn't decide who would win (though I'm leaning about 70% towards one of them) and what the subsequent outcome would be...
> 
> What do you guys think will happen?
> 
> But I'm glad I had the chance to write some more Kili/Bilbo bonding. Thorin's other Pokémon weren't revealed (though I'll say I've planned for at least two more other than his Aggron!) but Kili got his new addition ^^ I'm really enjoying writing this AU, haha~ I haven't written this much for a single AU since Princely (which is still a WIP Ò ‸ Ó)


	16. Tail To Tail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin met on the streets.

Bilbo was only a baby when his parents died. The winter that year was very fierce and the Shire where they lived had been ravaged by frost that destroyed the soil and tainted all the food they had stored up. A lot of people died, Bilbo remembered. He was sure he almost did, too.

He lived on the streets, after that. He did the best he could to look after himself, but it was hard on the street. Stray cats like him didn't get very far, even those that were Shire born and bred. Without any family living or willing to take him in, he had no other choice. Of course, there were other strays around too, even some his age. They'd never seen someone with folded ears like Bilbo, so he quickly became well recognised amongst them all. 

He was really young when he met Thorin Oakenshield, too. The older boy was a stray like him, but his personality was very different to Bilbo's. He was tough and didn't smile, and he was much bigger than Bilbo. His ears were big and high, and his tail was long. His fur was the thickest Bilbo had ever seen, and was a mixture of greys and blacks that moved like oil.

Somehow, Bilbo got attached. He found himself always by Thorin's side from the moment they met, hidden under his arm and tucked tightly into his chest. Thorin became obsessively protective over him, and hissed whenever someone got too close. In return, Bilbo cared for him more than anyone else, always made sure Thorin had food and that his fur was brushed and clean. They made a good team.

Eventually they got off the streets. They were taken in - as a pair - at a children's home, where they lived and received a formal education. Thorin was two years above Bilbo, so when it came time for him to leave, Bilbo did too. No one tried to stop him, either. He couldn't function without Thorin, not anymore. 

Because they'd received an education, it wasn't too difficult to find a job. Thorin worked for a construction company - he was big enough and strong enough to be accepted after the first interview - and Bilbo worked at a café, where his easy-going attitude and friendly face scored him a position. He found a passion in writing, and did that on the side to earn a little extra money for them (from which he also bought Thorin a Christmas present, the first he'd ever bought completely with the money he'd earned himself. He might of cried a little, but so did Thorin).

They even had a little apartment, all to themselves. Bilbo loved nothing more than decorating it, and although he sometimes complained he didn't mind cleaning it. Having a place to themselves after so long of living without one had him filled with a strange sense of satisfaction that he couldn't shake. He loved to cook in their tiny kitchen where he sometimes tripped over Thorin's feet as they stuck out from under their tiny table. He loved to listen to the sound of Thorin humming as he washed up and his voice echoed into the lounge room. He loved being able to say _welcome home_ to Thorin every time he came in through their front door.

He loved their bed, too. It was cheap, but it was comfortable, and they'd both chosen a really nice set of blue sheets that Bilbo loved to roll around in. Thorin liked them too, the bed as well, and never complained when Bilbo kept him in it for a few extra hours on weekend mornings.

"Did you hear back from that publisher?" Thorin asked him one evening as they lounged on the couch, Bilbo resting comfortably atop Thorin's chest as the bigger man settled down back-first on the cushions. 

Bilbo couldn't help but purr as Thorin's fingers scratched behind his ears tenderly, just where Thorin knew Bilbo loved it. "I did." He said on a sigh, smiling pleasantly. "They want me to come in for an interview."

Thorin nodded. "That's good." He said.

Bilbo knew that others wouldn't think Thorin was very proud of such an achievement, but he knew Thorin better than that. Thorin didn't give out praise unless he thought it was deserved - he was the type of person who acted very straightforwardly and honestly, which had the drawback of coming off as cold and detached. But Bilbo didn't care, he absolutely melted whenever Thorin praised him, and was content in the knowledge that Thorin cared enough about his passions to remember all the details of his soon-to-be career, even if it had yet to bring in much money. 

Faintly, Bilbo felt Thorin's tail coil up and around his leg, where Bilbo had it haphazardly thrown over Thorin's hips. His tail wasn't as fluffy as Thorin's, and wasn't as long, but that didn't stop Thorin from wrapping them together much like the way he liked to twine their fingers. It was a thoughtful and affectionate gesture that had Bilbo purring louder.

Thorin seemed to enjoy the sound of Bilbo purring. He'd mentioned it once, that it made him feel happy to hear it, that he liked it even more when Bilbo lounged on top of him and he could feel it reverberating in Bilbo's chest. Bilbo never questioned Thorin's strange preferences, because he had his own strange ones, like how he enjoyed the feeling he got when Thorin wrapped their tails together.

They were both kind of damaged after living on the streets for so long, and for living in the children's home. While it was one of the best things that could have happened to them, living independently together was calming and freeing. Bilbo wouldn't give it up for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing the fifth part to _A Far Cry,_ only to realise just how long it would take me T~T I've got all the battle matchups and the outcome, but it's going to take me a little longer to write due to the fact that I have to research what Pokémon can use what moves and what exactly they look like. Each part of that AU took me more than two hours to write, so I had a feeling that this part would be too much for me to get through today. I apologise for that, I'm really excited about that AU, I hardly feel like its a chore to write at all, and I feel a little guilty about not getting it done tonight... It was day 350 today, too T_T
> 
> Regardless, today was a long day. My HSC marks were sent out, and while they weren't exactly what I expected I think they're alright! Everyone was freaking out and anticipating the release hour, but I slept right through it, and only opened the message when I woke up four hours later, haha ^^"
> 
> Tomorrow my ATAR will come out, which is an admission rank - basically, it's a score that is used to decide whether you get into universities or not. It's like a culmination of all of the marks from your last year of school, and it makes everyone stressed. I'm glad I got an early entry place at my university of choice, otherwise I would be stressed, too! I also found out that my visual arts major is going to be displayed in a small gallery next year, which is exciting ^^
> 
> Just to mention, I imaged Bilbo as a Scottish Fold and Thorin as a Maine Coon cat-hybrid in this~ ^^


	17. Christmas Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo contemplates his relationship as he watches Christmas lights with Thorin.

"Thorin, honestly." Bilbo huffed. "I'm fine."

Thorin appeared doubtful as he stared down at Bilbo, but he didn't press the issue further after adjusting Bilbo's woollen scarf once more. "Are your wings cold?"

Bilbo shook his head, and as if to prove his point, he fluttered his wings a little. The translucent appendages didn't often feel the cold, and even though it certainly was chilly outside Bilbo wasn't too worried. 

His lover, on the other hand, simply couldn't stop worrying. Bilbo didn't blame him too much - society often saw his kind as weaker, and considering the state at which they were born it was no surprise. Faeries like him were always born premature, with underdeveloped wings and lungs and no immune system to speak of. Many children died within a few months, so adult faeries were rare. It took years for their wings to fully develop, and even the slightest illness could become quite traumatic.

Bilbo was surprised Thorin would want to be with him when he carried around so much baggage.

Still, Thorin reached to pull Bilbo's beanie over his pointed ears a little more before reaching to grasp his mitten-covered hand like it could offer a little extra warmth. They were out and about, even though it was snowing lightly, to see the Christmas lights. Bilbo adored them. He'd never been allowed out to see them when he was younger because it was too easy for him to get sick, but now that he was older it was safer.

He didn't know what it was about the lights, but they filled him with a strange sense of nostalgia, like the leftover feelings from something great and powerful. He adored seeing all the houses in the neighbourhood done up in bright displays of holiday cheer. It was splendid to look at, and always left Bilbo breathless.

It was always more enjoyable to see the lights with Thorin by his side. Everything was better with Thorin. Bilbo never expected to find himself in a relationship like this, not with the way his species were so fragile and demanding. He had been resigned to the fact that he'd be romantically alone for the duration of his life when Thorin had swept in and turned everything upside down.

They hated each other, at first. Bilbo and Thorin just simply couldn't get along, no matter how hard everyone around them tried to ease the animosity. Their opinions and views on the world had been so different that they couldn't see eye-to-eye on anything.

Except one thing.

They'd both grown up believing no one would ever love them.

Regardless of Bilbo's status as a Faery, Thorin had loved him. And regardless of Thorin's cold attitude and abrasive nature, Bilbo had loved him, too. 

And now they never had to see the Christmas lights alone again. Bilbo cherished those moments they had together, even if Thorin obsessively fussed over his wings and was adamant that they spend as much time in the heated car as possible. 

"Isn't it just so pretty?" Bilbo sighed, leaning into Thorin's side heavily as they surveyed the glowing street. 

Thorin hummed, and tightened his arm where it was slung low around Bilbo's hips. "Our house is the best."

Bilbo laughed quietly. "Always so competitive." He teased. "But you're right."

"Of course I'm right." Thorin grumbled. "I'm always right."

Bilbo just smiled at his antics, and cuddled into Thorin's side happily. Thorin took a moment to check on his wings, making sure there was no frost developing where Bilbo wouldn't feel it and that the joints were still mobile and covered by these little warmers developed especially for Faeries. Only when he was satisfied did he pull Bilbo into his arms properly.

Thorin may have looked a little intimidating, but Bilbo had never met anyone who cared for his health and wellbeing more. Thorin never treated his health like it was a burden, or like it was troublesome to keep up with. He was much more concerned than Bilbo himself!

"I like the way the lights look when they reflect off your wings." Thorin murmured into his hair, so quiet that Bilbo almost didn't hear him. It was little comments like that, built up over years and years, that made Bilbo gain confidence in his appearance. 

Bilbo smiled bashfully, and turned his face to hide his nose in Thorin's scarf. He'd long since learned to take the compliments for what they were - honest and heartfelt - so he didn't reply, but rather accepted Thorin's affections without a fuss.

"I love you." He murmured unashamedly, peering up at Thorin out from under his lashes.

Thorin offered him a rare smile, and smoothed away the hair from Bilbo's forehead to press a small kiss there. _I love you too._


	18. Wrapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is surprisingly good at wrapping presents.

Bilbo, surprisingly, was awful at wrapping presents. Don't get him wrong, it wasn't impossible for him to wrap something up, but it was never quite perfect. One end of the wrapping was always longer than the other, and he always had to use an extra piece of tape because he could never seem to quite put it on properly.

Thorin, on the other hand, had a _gift._ He could wrap presents do well it looked like they should be in a commercial. He didn't even think he was good at it, but Bilbo certainly did. It was always a shock to watch him sit there and calmly wrap all the presents they'd bought for Frodo, Kili and Fili. Thorin was just really good at using his hands, it seemed. Most things he made were just perfect, at least according to Bilbo.

"I still don't know how you do that." Bilbo said with a grin as he lounged on the armchair across from Thorin, watching him wrap Christmas presents. "They look so good!"

Thorin chuckled at his antics, and passed him over a freshly wrapped present to place under the tree. "It's not that hard."

Bilbo laughed. "Not for you, it isn't, love." He teased. "You're amazing at it, love."

Thorin had the decency to look a little bashful at that. "Thank you." He murmured.

Bilbo grinned, and wandered over to drop a kiss on Thorin's forehead. "I'm going to go make some tea, want some?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short (but it met my minimum for the day) because I'm busy hosting a tea today :)


	19. Rational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knew that fights between them would naturally happen, but that didn't mean he had to like them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin implied

Sometimes it was hard being in a relationship with three Alphas when Bilbo was just an Omega. He wasn't as physically strong or even as tall as any of his mates, and considerably less broad in the shoulders. His body simply wasn't built that way, and although he was generally quite comfortable as he was, the difference in strength could sometimes be overwhelming.

Bilbo considered Thorin to be the most dominant of his mates. He was the eldest, and had had many years experience in controlling his rowdy and mischievous nephews. Thorin was generally the most responsible, and the strictest of them all. He was a no-nonsense type of person, even more so when Bilbo was concerned.

Fili and Kili were much different. They fought amongst themselves frequently, which had startled Bilbo at first though he was quite used to it by now. It was mostly affectionate tousling, much of which was Kili tentatively prodding at Fili's higher status in their small dynamic. Kili never seemed to experience the urge to challenge his Alpha mates, despite being an Alpha himself, which was a relief to Bilbo. He mostly did it just to bother Fili, who couldn't back down from a challenge, no matter how little or how much of a jest it was. 

Still, it sometimes got... out of hand. Fili would snap at Kili just a little too harshly, and Kili would get riled up. Their fights always had Bilbo in a panic, no matter who was participating. His nature dictated that it was his fault they were challenging each other, that he wasn't doing something right. It always left him distraught, even though he rationally understood it was out of his control and usually not caused by his actions. 

Even though his nature was more submissive than dominant, it wasn't like Bilbo was a pushover, either. He'd broken up quite a fair few fights between the youngest of his mates, though he generally shied away when Thorin was involved. Thorin never quiet rose to bait like Fili and Kili did, and was as such the one to generally yank them apart and punish them. If Thorin himself was in the fight, well... there was no choice but to wait it out. Those kinds of arguments never lasted long, because Thorin was much stronger than the rest of them, but they were the ones that affected Bilbo the most (not that he'd let any of his mates figure that particular fact out, though).

Sometimes they couldn't be helped, the fights, and they surfaced at the worst of times. Bilbo's heats were always a time of high emotions and sensitivity, when his hormones were out of control and his pheromones were making everyone flip between moods like falling dominoes. His mates were strict on themselves when he was recovering from the heats, always kept themselves in line and quiet and gentle. Bilbo knew it took a lot for them to not smother him with concern, but they were always respectful of his wishes and his independence, even with the knowledge that he could fall pregnant at any heat. 

This post-heat was particularly stressful. The heat itself had ended a day earlier than expected, and Bilbo had slept for fourteen hours longer than his usual time of twenty-six hours (which was just a little more than average for Omegas). He'd felt lethargic and a little out of place when he'd woken, especially because it was so much later than usual, and he wasn't quite sure why his usual cycle had been disrupted. It had put everyone in the house on edge, that was for sure.

On edge enough for a fight to break out, when the timing could not have been any more inconvenient. Even worse was that the fight broke out between Fili and Thorin over seemingly _nothing._ Bilbo had just been brooding on the couch in between the both of them while Kili did who knows what in the kitchen when the growling had started, and before he'd known what the problem was the both of them were launching across his lap like feral animals.

"Stop it!" He snarled above their growling, grabbing Thorin by the back of the pants to haul him back into his spot. "What the hell was that all about? If you don't mind, I'll leave you two and your _dispute_ alone!"

He escaped into the kitchen before either could utter a world, and collapsed against the wall. Fights between Alphas were always violent, and someone always ended up hurt and punished and he had been in the _middle of it._

Somehow, he felt sick. He lurched for the sink and retched into it, even though nothing came out, and clutched the edge of the bench with trembling fingers. He was too busy gasping for air to notice warm fingers gently carding through his hair, but by scent he quickly discerned that it was Kili.

"What happened?" He asked quietly, pulling Bilbo's hair away from his face. "What set them off?"

Bilbo shook his head, and retched one last time. He had no idea what set them off, they always had such good control over themselves after his heats. They _knew_ how fragile he could be after them, so what exactly had made them so riled up? It didn't make any sense.

Kili carefully bundled Bilbo into his arms and carried him to the kitchen table, where he sat Bilbo on a cushioned chair. He passed Bilbo the tissues and fetched him a glass of water before dutifully setting about making Bilbo tea. Kili wasn't generally this attentive, or at least not in this manner, but Bilbo found him to be acting rather mature, considering the situation. He was careful when handing Bilbo his tea, and quickly claimed the chair beside Bilbo for his own so that he could pull it as close as it could get and envelope Bilbo in his arms.

"Don't worry about them, Bilbo." Kili tried to console. "They're just being bratty, even I can see it, and I'm the brattiest of us all."

Bilbo pursed his lips to stop his mouth from wobbling with repressed tears. He sunk into his shoulders, and tried not to look Kili in the eyes, otherwise he would surely start to cry. To think the youngest of his little family had to be the one to comfort him, when _he_ was supposed to look after them... It didn't settle right with him, not with all his hormones flying every which way.

Kili let out a reassuring rumble as Bilbo's scent turned sickly sweet with distress - he was never able to control his scent, but he knew it changed a little when he got overly emotional. He knew that this mood of his always sweetened his scent into something quite pungent and distasteful, though he couldn't quite smell it himself. Bilbo found that Kili's gentle affections did settle down his errant heart, but he wouldn't be comfortable again for some time now. 

"I don't... I don't know what I did." Bilbo whispered, hands trembling around his teacup.

Kili clutched a hand atop Bilbo's to steady the tea. His hand was big enough to completely encompass the entirety of Bilbo's hand. "You didn't do anything." He said firmly. "I don't know why they're so antsy, but..." He paused for a moment. "I can feel it, too. I don't know what it is, but I feel really protective. More than usual. It could have been anything that set them off - a slight change in someone's scent, leftover energy from your heat, maybe Fili challenged Thorin without realising it."

Bilbo felt his eyes get wet. "Why was my heat shorter?" He whimpered.

Kili's hand tightened around his, but not painfully so. He pressed a soothing kiss to Bilbo's cheek before speaking. "I don't know, Bilbo." He sighed. "I'm not... I don't have the experience to care for you properly, yet." He admitted, eyes lowered in something akin to shame. "I'd ask Thorin, but he's... indisposed."

Bilbo anxiously tucked his head under Kili's chin, nose searching for the small scent glands he knew were hidden at the base of Kili's throat. He knew Alphas had more scent glands than Omegas - they had them under their chins (which led to a lot of cheek rubbing, though Bilbo never complained), at their throats and on the inside of their wrists. Omegas were missing the ones on their wrists, but their glands were bigger and much more overwhelming, mostly to attract the attention of their mates.

After coaxing Bilbo to take a few deep sips from tea, Kili took the cup away and wiped at his damp eyes with a tissue. "Don't go crying on me now, angel." Kili soothed, cradling the back of Bilbo's head gently. "It'll all be alright."

Bilbo muffled a sniffle in the crook of Kili's neck. "I could have been hurt." He whispered. "What if I'm..." Absently, he trails a hand to press against his stomach, trying to feel for any tell-tale signs of his stomach changing. He wasn't a biological female, so his pregnancies would be different. His stomach would start to show within a few days, not because the baby would be big enough, but rather because of the immediate shift in hormones that was required for a male to be able to nurture the group of cells that would eventually form a baby. It was how they could tell if they were pregnant, other than making an appointment with the doctor, of course. 

Kili looked at him, bewildered, as Bilbo glanced up at him out from under his eyelashes purposefully. It took a moment before recognition flickered across his face. He took in a deep breathe, and pressed his forehead against Bilbo's. "I'm sorry." He murmured.

Bilbo whined, and rubbed his cheek against Kili's. A burst Kili's scent, earthly and strong, washed over him like the comforting warmth of a familiar blanket. 

They sat in silence for a while, only disturbed by the motions of Kili pulling Bilbo onto his lap, where he felt safe and protected. By the time Thorin and Fili came to find them he felt much calmer, but he made no move to untangle himself from his youngest mate. Thankfully, Kili seemed more than prepared to do all the talking (and frustrated growling) for him, leaving Bilbo free to nose at his scent glands. 

"You could have hurt him." Kili growled over the top of Bilbo's head. "What if he's pregnant?"

Truthfully, there was not much either of them could say to that. Even Bilbo could smell the regret filling the room. He knew that male pregnancies were very delicate, and that if he'd been caught between two Alphas fighting he could have been seriously injured. He tried to block out the rest of Kili's scolding, and only lifted his head with a surprised trill when a large hand touched it.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo." Thorin murmured, crouching to rub his fingers against Bilbo's cheek gently. "I don't... I'm not sure what happened, but it's me that's to blame. I should have controlled myself better, and for that I apologise."

Bilbo made a small noise, and leaned into his touch. It was a sign of forgiveness, but he didn't vocalise it - subconsciously warning Thorin not to act so rash again. It was something that Thorin understood without having to hear it in words. 

Quietly, Fili wormed his way between the three of them, giving his brother an apologetic nuzzle on the way, to press his hand against Bilbo's stomach gently. Fili was always the quickest to forgive in their dynamic, which is why Bilbo never harboured anything against him, even without a verbal apology. He could see it plain as day on Fili's face.

"It could explain it all." Bilbo murmured quietly as Fili's hand touched imploringly at his stomach. "If I... If I conceived, it could explain everything, couldn't it?"

Thorin nodded, and pressed a reassuring kiss to Bilbo's temple. "It could." He said. "It could be something else still, but it could also very well be that."

Bilbo nodded, and bit his lip. He could feel the tears coming on again.

"Bilbo?" Kili asked, touching Bilbo's cheek gently.

Bilbo blinked several times, and felt the tears begin. His face scrunched up, and before he knew it he had three very confused and very concerned mates sniffing at him for injuries and trying to figure out what had caused him to cry.

As always, it was Thorin that managed to gather his attention and wade through all the emotion. "Why are you crying, treasure?"

"I want a baby." He said, turning his eyes up to Thorin, then Fili and Kili, too. "I want a baby with you."

"Oh, Bilbo." Thorin sighed, not unkindly, as he offered Bilbo a rare smile and gently wiped away his tears.

"We want that too." Fili said, bringing Bilbo's hand to his lips tenderly. "Of course we want that with you too, Bilbo. Don't cry."

He offered a weak smile. It was all he could manage.

"I think you should rest for a little while longer." Thorin decided, carefully lifting Bilbo from Kili's embrace so that he could carry him upstairs. "We all should."

The bed had never felt more comfortable until then, when Bilbo was tucked under the covers with all his mates by his sides, gentle and quiet. Sometimes fights just couldn't be helped - it was in their nature, and a part of their living dynamic. 

What made it liveable was that they moved past it all, and always reconnected. It was that connection that Bilbo couldn't live without, the connection he had with his mates, and the connection they had with him, with each other.

It was stronger than any feelings of animosity would ever be.


	20. Yuletide Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo decorates in time for Yule.

Dwarves didn't seem to celebrate Yule, Bilbo found. They didn't light bonfires or share gifts or have a particularly extravagant feast to celebrate the solstice like Hobbits did.

It took Bilbo a day to decide that he would celebrate it, nevertheless. He was sure Thorin wouldn't mind - after all, Bilbo kept most of the decorating to their rooms and he would cook extra food, something that was never a bad thing among hungry Dwarves. When Thorin was busy during the day, Bilbo set about visiting the Dale Markets to find all the things he needed. By the time Thorin came back from the various meetings he had to attend, Bilbo had already covered their room in poinsettias and wreaths and even gold pillar candles that he'd found in a small, half-hidden stall. He'd taken the liberty to hang mistletoe above the door, too, and had changed their bed sheets from the blue Thorin favoured to something more red and festive.

"What's this, âmralimê?" Thorin asked, puzzled, as he wandered in to survey the room. "A Hobbit tradition?"

Bilbo smiled shyly, and nodded. "It is. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." Thorin said, bending to press a swift kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "I'm going to bathe, continue on with your decorating. I'll have you tell me of this tradition once I am clean, if you're amenable."

Bilbo just grinned, pleased, and watched as Thorin disappeared into their adjoining bathroom before turning back to fixing the bed sheets. Once he'd done, he allowed himself a satisfied moment to survey his handiwork. Everything was blissfully nostalgic, but it was new, and different. He felt like this was the Yule he would celebrate, now that he lived in the mountain with all the Dwarves. It certainly wasn't the same, but it still brought him happiness. Yule was a time of happiness, after all, a time that invited new plans for the future. 

After changing into his nightgown, Bilbo relaxed into the many pillows piled onto his bed and pulled out the book he was half-way through finishing. Thorin came out to join him ten minutes later, dressed in his sleeping clothes with his thick hair tied up. Bilbo welcomed his embrace when it was offered, and sighed contently as he settled against Thorin to join the Dwarf in observing their freshly decorated room.

"It looks very festive." Thorin said. He didn't look particularly miffed about the changes Bilbo had taken it upon himself to employ, which made Bilbo pleased.

"It's not much, but it makes me feel a little less homesick."

Thorin rubbed his arm soothingly, and kissed Bilbo's forehead once more. If this kiss was a little more shaken, or a little more imploring, neither mentioned it.

Bilbo had told Thorin he missed the Shire. It was only natural, after all, but they planned to visit every spring to keep his estate in order, as well as all his possessions. That quelled his heart a little, and although he would never be able to bring himself to leave Erebor and its people now, he knew he would always ache for the Shire, even if only a little. Thorin purposefully took him on trips out into the forest to soothe his aches, where hills of green and fresh air never failed to lift his sprits. Regardless of his homesickness, he always thought of Erebor as where he was meant to be.

"Tell me about it." Thorin said, eyes watching Bilbo's face with a soft sense of curiosity that made Bilbo's heart flutter.

He smiled, and settled against Thorin's side in preparation for a lengthy conversation that was surely to veer off every track possible. Hobbits, after all, were great story tellers!


	21. Love Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange state of wonderment seemed to blanket the town.

_I really want to love somebody..._

 

The town Thorin moved into was hidden amongst fields of green. Isolated, it seemed to grow from the ground, where life was as abundant and bright as the sun that shone unhindered onto every doorstep. The flora was flourishing and bountiful and crept over every darkened corner to rejuvenate even the most insignificant site into something taken from a nature magazine.

It was very different from the smog and grime of the city he'd become accustomed to.

 

There was a man in the town that everyone adored. He was small in height, with a small, rounded nose and very faint freckles and a chubby figure. His hands were particularly cute, and were often wrapped around the handle of a pretty vintage watering can or gingerly holding a brown paper bag filled to the brim with fresh rosy apples.

He sung a lot, with a small, high voice befitting his cute face. Every morning and every night he'd stroll through the town at the same time, singing a small song Thorin could never quite capture the words of. 

At first he thought it strange. Even more so when he found that all his admittedly neglected plants in the front garden bed had been watered and a fresh apple had been perched perfectly atop one of the fence posts. 

 

"Why does he do that?"

"Hmm." The checkout girl was still smiling pleasantly as she scanned each individual item Thorin had placed on the old conveyer belt. "He's always been like that!" She finally decided.

"Does he do it with everyone?"

"Hmm." She frowned harder, puffing out her cheeks just a little, like it was a particularly tricky question, before her eyes went wide with decisiveness. "Not everyone!"

It was a tad frustrating to talk to her, but Thorin still continued to place down the items from the basket he held slung over one arm regardless. "It's... it's considerate, I suppose."

"Hmm." She clumsily placed his items in a fabric bag he'd been forced to buy when he realised they didn't have plastic ones. "I guess it is, considering you're new here and all! He's so friendly, huh?"

Thorin nodded quietly, and watched her hands as they carefully packed away a fragile carton of eggs. She seemed like the clumsy type, and always fumbled with items, but she never once dropped any. 

"Hmm... you could always leave him something too, mister." She said with a wide grin. "He seems to like you a little more than the others! Maybe he knows you aren't fitting in yet, huh?"

 

Despite how affronted felt, he mulled over the checkout girl's words as he carried his groceries home. 

_Leave him something in return?_

 

On a particularly hot day, right before he knew the man would come strolling up the street, he left a chilled bottle of water on the fence post. 

He kept watch from the sitting room window, where the walls bent to accommodate a comfortable daybed laden with decorative pillows. The man wandered up carrying his watering can, and saw the water bottle sitting atop the post. For a moment his big eyes were filled with puzzlement, but then he seemed to grin widely to himself. He gently tipped the nozzle of the watering can over Thorin's garden bed, before taking the water bottle and continuing on his merry way.

Thorin could only watch in a flushed state of wonderment. 

 

The apples that bloomed in the town where Thorin lived were marvellous. They were rich and sweet and always seemed to be ripe.

Thorin grew to favour them.

 

When it rained one night, Thorin left an umbrella with a curved handle hooked over the fence railing. The man had looked at it, bewildered, and as soon as he'd popped it open the first of the night's twinkling raindrops had fallen.

Thorin watched, utterly smitten, as the man laughed to himself quietly and continued on his way home.

 

His name was Bilbo Baggins, and he was the heart of the town. Loved by all but known intimately by few, he nurtured growth and regrowth and came to enjoy even the smallest of gestures from the most reclusive of people with little thought towards significance and insignificance. He was kind-hearted and soft spoken and beautiful.

Thorin wished to meet him properly one day.


	22. Ashes To Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo takes up a new place of residence for an unknown reason. The hosts seem a little _odd._

The house was large, built atop a hill which was blanketed in grey ash that periodically drifted down seemingly unhindered by gravity from the looming peaks in the near distance. It looked almost like snow, he'd remarked to the carriage driver, only for the silent old man to turn to him and succinctly state that it certainly wasn't snow and that it was certainly not to be balled up and thrown about. He spoke as if Bilbo would actually do such a thing, which left Bilbo awfully frightened. He was a Baggins, after all, and the Bagginses were the most respectable family in the entirety of the Shire. 

Nevertheless, it was the house that Bilbo was most interested in, not the decrepit driver and his weird way of muttering in high pitches to the two black horses pulling the coach. It was more of a dilapidated mansion than a home, he thought, and appeared to be of an older make than he'd first anticipated. Aptly titled _Durin's Halls_ after it's long-standing owners, his knowledge of the building was limited precisely to what he could see through the frosted coach window.

"Out."

Bilbo flinched at the raspy voice, and after struggling with the door's interior handle he managed to get himself out of the coach. The drop to the ground was a little farther than he expected without a hand to steady him, and the ash made a muffled crushing noise under his heeled shoe that had his nose turning up disdainfully. 

"Your possessions, _sir."_ The coachman nudged Bilbo's trunks with the toe of his dirty boot until they tumbled off the seat and to the ground with a loud thud. One popped open, and several important biology editions flattened across the ash covered gravel, setting off gentle plumes of dust that made Bilbo's eyes water unpleasantly. He let out a shocked cry and dove to save the books before the soot and ash could damage the fragile pages and fading ink. As soon as his knees hit the ground the coachman was yanking on the reigns, driving the horses to kick up and dash off. A shower of ash settled over Bilbo before he could move out of its path, leaving him coughing and choking on bitterness. 

"What a rude...!" Bilbo huffed to himself as he wobbled to his feet to begin angrily dusting the ash off his expensive clothing. He knew he wasn't a noble, but he did have a title, and he was considerably wealthy. It was very unlike anyone to treat him in such a manner, regardless of status! The people in this area must have different opinions on what's civil and decent and what's not! 

After piling his precious books back into his trunk, he turned to glance back up at the haunting mansion. It gave Bilbo a chilled sense, like something just wasn't quite right. He found that most old houses had that particular disposition, but he'd never seen one of this age. Eerily beautiful though it may be, it still set his hairs on end. Nevertheless, Durin's Halls was his new place of residence, for the time being, and he thought it was quite time he met his hosts.

Typically, most presentable hosts came out to greet their guests and help them with their bags. Bilbo himself had done that many a time when he hosted conferences or parties at his own home, and yet not a sound resonated from the old house as he waited. Even as Bilbo tiled his head back to survey it all, it seemed like not a soul was home. He'd been told that its inhabitants - he did not know them by name - hardly ever left the residence and would most certainly be there to greet him. He couldn't help but frown ferociously at how unhospitable these people were being, and he hadn't even seen their faces yet. He pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut as he hauled his trunks up to the front door where the mass of the building offered protection from the falling ash.

As he carried his last bag, filled with his most treasured possessions, to the front door, it was suddenly pulled open. Rather than a quick, ominous swing like from a horror novel, the door was pulled at a reasonable pace, and it did not creak. Somehow Bilbo found the normalcy of it to clash erringly with the macabre aura of the house. 

Standing at the door was a man. He was of tall stature, with shoulders somehow startlingly broad but effortlessly contained by the ever so slightly straining constraints of expensive but somewhat outdated clothing. His nose was strong, like he never properly grew into it, and his eyes were blue and rimmed by dark circles that indicated he'd seen bad things and hadn't since gotten a healthy amount of sleep. His lips were thin, and set in a hard line, and his angular face was framed by strands of his dark hair that fell out of the neat ponytail he kept tied with a midnight blue ribbon. 

He had a stare that pinned Bilbo in place. 

"Belladonna Took's child." He murmured, pulling the door open wider. 

Bilbo startled at the sound of his mother's name. Belladonna was an odd name in itself, befitting of the woman who had birthed him. She'd married into Bungo Baggins' family, a feat in itself that had been shocking in itself. Belladonna had been widely regarded as a wild spirit - with long dark hair and thick eyelashes, she'd been the most beautiful girl in the entire town. Her disposition towards adventures, however, deemed her unmarriageable. It was therefore shocking when the small, somewhat diminutive Bungo, who admittedly did not have the princely looks befitting a woman like Belladonna, wedded the Took and welcomed her into his family with open arms.

Bilbo had never seen a person more smitten with their husband than his mother.

Regardless, this man appeared to know her name. Although beautiful and adventurous, she had done little with her life other than write novels that none seemed interested in. Had this man read one, perhaps? 

"I am." Bilbo finally said, bowing politely. "Bilbo Baggins, it's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance." 

"A pleasure..." The man murmured, eyes downcast. He had a certain harsh look to his face that made Bilbo believe this arrangement wasn't quite what he wished for. 

Feeling affronted, Bilbo tightened his grip on his bags. "Y-your name...?" He asked carefully. 

The man didn't answer, but instead opened the door wider again.

Bilbo got the message, and edged his way inside. It was an effort to heave in his trunks, especially the one he'd used to transport all the relevant books and journals and equipment he'd need during his stay. By the time everything was in an out of the ash, he'd broken out in a light sweat and was regretting the decision to wear the coat he had buttoned on. The man made no move to help him, instead choosing to watch him out of the corner of his eyes. It unsettled Bilbo.

The interior of the home was just as old as the exterior. The entryway was wide and spacious, with large doorways leading in both left and right directions to other rooms, one of which may have been a kitchen. A single large staircases bracketed the west wall, leading to a railed balcony that gave Bilbo a faint view to the second floor. He guessed there was likely a third, judging by the size and age of the house, as well as a large attic. The foundations themselves seemed to be somewhat run down - there was dust covering the unused walkways, and splintered floorboards that hadn't appeared to have been maintained in at least a decade and were likely damaged by water and cold. Patches of the wallpaper - of which was horribly faded - were discoloured or peeling off. The walls seemed to shake as an elevator travelled between the levels somewhere, sounds of metal crunching and clunking echoing distantly into every darkened corner. 

There were possessions everywhere, too, in no conveyable order or style. A mirror lay slanted atop an armoire pressed against one wall, while stacks of boxes and indistinguishable lumps of furniture hidden under dusty white sheets stood wherever he looked. It seemed as though someone had recently made an attempt to sort through the possessions, as he could clearly see in his mind several more piles and less floor space as though it were a leftover image from a week ago. Although it took him a moment to realise so, he found that there were no pictures or frames on the wall. Not a single one. It was strange, for an old family house like this to have no frames at all. 

"Thorin."

Bilbo jumped as a hefty hand touched the small of his back. Even through his coat, waistcoat and various shirts he could still feel a strange heat radiating from the man's skin. "Pardon?" He breathed, drawing his hands defensively to his chest as the man loomed over him.

Dark blue eyes purposefully took in his figure, roaming over his face and shoulders and chest, all the way down to his heeled shoes and trembling knees. The man's other hand, for a moment, seemed to approach his face, provoking a worried whimper and an eye-closing flinch from Bilbo. However it settled on his shoulder, brushing away flakes of ash that lingered in the crosshairs of the fabric. The hand on the small of Bilbo's back seemed to arch him into the considerate touch, but it left Bilbo feeling an off mixture of flushed and confronted and a more than a little confused.

"My name." The man said, eyes lingering on Bilbo's face with a soft sense of scrutiny. "It's Thorin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rather fond of this idea, I think? I know it's quite ambiguous, and there isn't much substance, but it was enjoyable to write. I feel like I haven't had the chance to write a lot of descriptions in the style I'm aiming for, but I feel a little closer to my ideal way of writing with this~ 
> 
> It's strange how I consider my writing, just because everything I do and have done for this series has been on the day so as to stay true to writing one thing a day. It's hard coming up with ideas some days, and I look at what I've written and think it isn't shippy enough, but not everything has to be, I think~ Either way, this idea seems striking! If only I had more of a plot or idea developed for it, haha ^^"


	23. Switch Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to protect the world from the power he has, but it seems like the world isn't having it.

Bilbo had never joined a guild, even though he possessed magic and was able to use it fluently. His parents had both been in a guild, the small one that had presided over the Shire for as long as history books could remember. Thinking back on it now, he found himself unable to recall even the name of the guild, let alone its symbol or its master. 

It made him sad.

But the Shire was no more, and his parents had long since been six feet under. He had fickle and sometimes unforthcoming memories of them, and that was enough for him. His memories of the frost demon, Azog, that had destroyed his home were much more vivid. That was something he desperately wished he could forget.

Bilbo preferred not to dwell on the past. In recent years, he'd taken to travelling. He'd passed through countless towns and guilds alike, but none had appealed to him. He didn't know what exactly he was searching for, but...

It was more like he was running.

For now, a nomadic lifestyle was ideal. Not many knew his name or even his face, but the destructive nature of his magic was widespread knowledge. He didn't know where he'd developed the abilities he had, considering both his parents had gentle forms of magic centred around regrowth and healing. 

Bilbo's could do nothing but ravage and consume.

The next town he found himself in was Erebor. Aptly called "The Lonely Mountain", the city sat carved into and under a single mountain peak that loomed over a deeply concaved harbour that was used for trade rather than trawling and fishing. There were no other terrains similar for leagues and leagues. The mountain of Erebor was, in fact, a lonely, solitude break in the horizon. Bilbo thought it to be quite hideous, but it called to him like no other place had ever done. If anything, the ocean was nice to look at.

From the lookout point, Bilbo could smell the sea. The Shire had been far inland, so it was a foreign and intrusive smell. He breathed it in deeply as he surveyed the town. His eyes could only see the buildings that blanketed the mountain's feet, as much of the city was underground and hidden away inside, but he could still see a prominent cathedral and the distant sign of a guild. The guild's building was inside the mountain, he assumed, which was strange. Guild buildings were generally the feature of the town - or at least, the dominant guild's was. Although he couldn't recall his parent's guild, he could faintly remember the building - a large sign, and rounded structures seemingly built out of the highest hills in all of the Shire. 

Bilbo eyed the ships in the harbour wearily. He didn't see any flags of a guild that didn't belong to this town, and none that he'd stumbled across in the past. Based on that, Erebor seemed like an opportune place to gather resources and provisions before he'd have to continue moving on. 

After adjusting the cloak around his head, Bilbo began the decent into the town. People generally kept their eyes away from travellers like him, travellers that purposefully hid their face. The houses were built from stone and wood, and appeared to be sturdy and well-built. Much like the townspeople, Bilbo thought. They certainly weren't like what he experienced in other cities, though that much was expected. 

Even though this place seemed different to the others he'd passed, it didn't seem like enough to keep him still.

The inn Bilbo stayed at was small and located on the very edge of the far side of the city where houses branched out from under the mountain. He wasn't particularly fond of the decor, and most of the furniture was carved from stone. Although the furnishings made everything soft and comfortable, the room was cold.

At night, Bilbo was awoken by something. He hardly ever slept through the night anymore, not since he left the Shire. Slight shifts in the magical energy that permeated the air always startled him. The shifts weren't generally tangible, but his magic forced him to sense them, like a scanner he couldn't switch off. 

Bilbo pulled on his hooded cloak and small travelling bag as he moved to the window. The street outside was darkened to the point where not much was visible, but he could sense danger, like a physical vibration that moved under his skin. It was uncomfortable to the point of being painful, but he grit his teeth and bore it. 

Very quietly, he unhinged the window latch and slipped onto the ledge. It was only a story drop to the ground below, which he managed just fine. Even outside he couldn't see anything, though the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. 

Bilbo exhaled deeply, and began to move along the street. There was a powerful thing here, but he didn't know what. Something equally as alluring must have drawn it here, but Bilbo couldn't recall sensing anything worthy in this place. Maybe the guild...

A gripping pain suddenly shot through his head. Bilbo buckled over and froze, mouth opened in a pained scream that seemed lodged in his throat where it could make no sound. _What is this pressure?_

Ahead of Bilbo was the town square. It was faintly illuminated by dim streetlamps and the glow of the moon, by which Bilbo could see a figure cloaked in darkness. The moment he caught sight of the figure, the pressure in his head seemed to expand and worsen. He swallowed the lump in his throat and clung further to the shadows. Something was definitely not right.

A distant rumble made Bilbo tremble. He pressed a hand to his mouth when a voice started to stir the silent town. 

_"I know you're here, little one. I can smell your fear. I can smell your magic."_

"No way." Bilbo whimpered, gasping for air. He _knew_ that voice, he was sure he did, but who did it belong to? How did they know he was here? 

Bilbo tightened his cloak once more, and made a dash for it. The cloak billowed out behind him as he ran through the town. If he could make it to the water, then maybe... Maybe he could escape. There's no way anyone would follow him across the water, especially not at night.

A sudden burst of energy slammed into Bilbo's back, making him cry out. He braced himself as he tumbled against the pavement, and was drawn to a stop when he crashed into a brick wall. He threw his arms up to protect his face from a blast of magical energy that saturated the street, and ground his teeth harder. It filled the air with a pungent scent that made his eyes water. 

_"There you are, little one!"_ A manic laugh emanated from the darkened figure that seemed to glide towards him. _"Won't you scream prettily for me?"_

Bilbo tensed, and took a step back. He couldn't use offensive magic, not like this. It was too destructive, too cruel, even for an opponent like the one that stood before him. It could only be used for bad things. Defensive magic was easier, but considerably weaker. Nevertheless, he threw out his arm to form a magic ring that encircled the space in front of his palm. A blast of silver light formed a dome in front of his crouched figure, but as shards of thick shadows plummeted towards him it quickly shattered.

Bilbo screamed in pain as his skin was burned by the shadows. The enemy laughed louder, delighted by the noises his power pulled from Bilbo. 

As the debris cleared, Bilbo turned to make a run for it. He'd lost his bearings now, and knew the sea was a distant hope. He tried not to cry, but his breath was coming too fast, and no matter how far he ran the enemy was always right behind him, laughing. He'd never come across anyone with magic that could manipulate shadows like that. It wasn't _sane._

A thick shadow suddenly wrapped around his ankle, yanking him to the ground. Bilbo gasped in pain as his head bounced off the stone pavement, and twisted to throw up another shield as shots rained down on him. It was too much for him to handle, he wasn't strong enough to ward off offensive magic without using any of his own-

"Oi, mister!"

Bilbo's mouth dropped open. His hood obscured the view, but he could hear feet running this way, could sense magic signatures coming into his range. _No, don't come here... don't come this way... It's not safe!_

_"Concentrate on me, little one! They'll die soon enough!"_

Bilbo screamed as his barrier was torn apart. Shadows drilled into his skin, burning him. He hadn't felt pain so intense in a very long time. For a moment his vision went completely black, but the image of the young boy running towards him came through. The figure seemed utterly enthralled by more victims, and threw out his arm to send sharpened shadows racing towards him. _No..._

With the last amount of strength Bilbo could muster, he dove forwards and shoved the boy that had called out to him out of the way. He hardly felt the pain of the shadows spearing through his back and out of his chest until he saw the dirtied tips in front of his eyes. Blood pooled in his mouth and spilled out when a violent cough wracked his body.

The boy that had came to save him was sprawled across the floor. His pupils were constricted with fear, his mouth agape. He had brown hair that framed a handsome face splattered by flecks of Bilbo's blood. For a moment Bilbo wobbled on his feet. He could feel the hood slipping off his head, and he wondered why, but he soon realised that he was pitching forwards. 

It faintly felt like he was falling into the ocean.

 

"Uncle, he _saved_ me! Help him!"

"Please, Thorin. There's something special about him, I can tell. Something powerful!"

"I'll see what I can do."

 

Waking up was traumatic. Bilbo felt cold, the type of cold that Azog had brought to his idyllic life all those years ago. He writhed in pain and screamed, trying to wade through the shadows that swallowed his mind and threatened to drown him. 

He didn't want to become like the rest of the people from the Shire. He didn't want to die like this.

"... up! Wake up already!"

Bilbo gasped into consciousness, and felt his magic slip out of his control. Before he'd realised what he was doing he'd swung himself upright to crouch on the bed, a sword drawn from his magic clutched in one trembling hand. As his cloak settled around him, he felt his ferocious expression drop as his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. 

A man was standing before the tip of his polished sword, hands raised in defence. His eyes were glued to the blade, wide with a look Bilbo didn't quite like. 

"Calm down, mister!" A familiar voice cried. "We're just trying to help."

Bilbo's eyes jerked to the side where they were met by a face he'd seen before. It was the boy who'd been in the square, the one who Bilbo had jumped in front of. _How is he still alive? After that shadow guy...! How am I still alive, too?_

"That sword." A low voice murmured. "I know that sword."

Bilbo startled, and quickly released the blade. In a flash of silver light it disappeared into nothingness. He couldn't fathom how he'd come so close to releasing the power he permanently kept locked away where no one, not even himself, could reach. It was reckless and stupid of him to even draw such a weak blade when more could easily spill out.

"That sword." The man repeated, stepping forwards. "Where did you get it?"

Bilbo moved back a bit, arm raised defensively.

"Uncle!" The boy snapped, stepping in front of Bilbo. "Don't harass the patient!"

Bilbo cringed as his head throbbed. He wobbled, and fell back against the bed with a defeated sound. Hands were instantly gripping his arm to steady him, but he shook them off. "Where..." He croaked. "Where am I?"

The young boy grinned at him widely. "You're in Erebor, and this is our guild!" He stated proudly. "That mean looking guy over there is Uncle Thorin, and I'm Kili. What was that guy doing going after you, mister?"

"Kili." Thorin said sharply. "Leave us."

"What?" Kili whined, eyes darting over to his Uncle. "But-"

"Go."

Bilbo felt his fingers twitch as he was left alone in the room with Thorin. Only an idiot wouldn't realise that this man was the guild master, and only extremely powerful people could gain that title. It was intimidating. 

"That sword, I recognise it." Thorin said, moving closer. "How did you come by that magic?"

Bilbo felt sweat drip off his forehead. He had no escape route from here, and not enough energy to fight off a guild master. He was surely deep in the mountain, so deep he wouldn't be able to find his way out alone even if he somehow managed to pass by Thorin alive.

"Stop looking for an escape route." Thorin said, not unkindly, as he stretched out his arm to interrupt Bilbo's anxious eyes. "No one here will harm you unless you do so first. I cannot guarantee your safety, however, if you do not tell me how you came by such power."

Bilbo's eyes wavered. If he were being honest, he didn't know how he had come by this power. It had developed after Azog's attack, but he didn't know more than that. Reluctantly, he shook his head twice. He didn't trust his voice not to betray his fear. 

Thorin eyed him cautiously, and let out a small sound. "Rest, for now." He murmured. "You've put this town and my guild in danger, so I will have my answers when you are able." 

Bilbo lowered himself against the bed properly as Thorin turned to leave the infirmary. Thorin glanced at him one last time, before closing the door to offer him privacy. Bilbo watched it for a moment, but he had a feeling that no one would bother him. 

It gave him a chance to cry. He pressed his hands to his face and let himself weep, because he'd really done something bad now. There was no way he'd be able to hide his Sword of Damocles from Thorin, he just knew it. 

This town was doomed, and he would be the one to destroy it. 


	24. Switch Off Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This place wasn't so hideous anymore.

The guild was called Golden Peak.

Like Bilbo expected, the guild master was Thorin Oakenshield, who was known for his blacksmithing abilities and his magical prowess. Like all guild masters, his fighting abilities were beyond the normal realm and he was capable of using the three Great Guild Spells, which in this guild's case were titled the Golden Triad. 

The Great Guild Spells were used for security. Every guild had three, and each were titled with reference to the guild's name. Only the guild master was able to wield such enormous power - it was a condition of the status, and why guild masters were the most powerful wizards in each guild. For the guild members, it meant that spells that were titled with a word from the guild's name were forbidden. If someone in Thorin's guild, for example, were to use a use a spell with the word "golden" in the title then they would vanish into a plane of nonexistence that none were able to access. 

No one, not even the White Council who presided over all magic affairs on the continent, knew the secret to that phenomenon. They called it _Ebbing_ or _Waning,_ as the guild member who used the spell would disappear but their magical signature would remain. It was a torturous thing to happen to a person, to be real but intangible, lost in a place where none could ever go to or return from. Many said it must be painful, that to use magic with the name of one's guild was an immense and fatal drain on one's magic, enough to make the wielder blink out of existence like the flash of a bird's wings as it dove through a shaft of sunlight.

Regardless, those spells were undoubtedly some of the most powerful, often even more so than the Great Guild Spells.

For that reason, they were nigh on impossible to learn. The magic of a guild made it that a person's mind wasn't able to comprehend spells with the same name, so _learning_ one was a mysterious occasion. They only appeared in times of dire need, though there were rumours that the spells implanted themselves in the mind of someone who would play an important role in a future disaster. 

Those rumours were unconfirmed, as it was impossible to tell who knew such a spell until it was used. The wielders, if they knew, were able to keep it a secret so closely guarded that not even the people closest to them had the slightest idea they existed. 

Until it was too late, of course.

Regardless, Bilbo found himself at Golden Peak, where wizards of all kinds resided in the guild hall hidden within the Lonely Mountain. He'd read books on guilds like this one, hence how he knew about their Great Guild Spells. The ones that belonged to powerful guilds, like Golden Peak, were well-known. The names and even a description of the spells was utterly unknown, but their prowess was common knowledge. It terrified Bilbo to think someone like Thorin could possibly exist, someone with the power to wield such terrifying abilities. He had to be the guild master for a reason, after all. 

Inside the mountain, it was difficult to tell time. His belongings had been removed from the room, and there were no visual clocks or dials that would give away the date. He knew he must have been asleep for quite a while, as he could feel it in his tangled hair and dirtied skin. Someone had removed all his clothing from the waist up to bandage his wounds, but he'd been redressed in a midnight blue, fur-trimmed cloak for privacy. He missed his own clothing, but this kept him warm and comfortable, so he anxiously pulled it closer.

He really needed to leave this place. It wasn't safe, not with that shadow-guy after him, not with Azog still out there somewhere. This wasn't the place where he would end up, he wasn't done running yet. It was unwise and unsafe for him to stay. Even so...

These people had healed him. As he pressed his hand to his chest, he felt only minimal pain where he expected to feel agony. The guild members didn't even know him, or know why he was being pursued. They blindly trusted him, dove in head first to save him, risked their lives to _protect_ someone like him. He couldn't understand it, but it left his heart feeling strained and fluttery. 

He was definitely ill.

 

Thorin was the one to care for him, primarily. He regularly brought in food, and changed Bilbo's bandages when he was blissfully asleep. Admittedly, Bilbo's stomach made hungry noises every time he smelt the food he was given. It was very unlike anything he usually ate - the plate was filled with meats and heady food that settled warmly in his stomach, without many greens present. Although probably not as health-driven as his usual diet, it _was_ quite appealing...

He ate everything he was given as soon as Thorin left the room with a defeated sigh. 

"I believe you're healthy enough to venture out of this room now." Thorin remarked one day, as he put aside the food Bilbo had refused to eat in his presence. "Come along, Kili has been hounding me for your attention."

"Why..." Bilbo grit his teeth and fixed his eyes on his hands. "Why are you doing this?"

Thorin frowned at him. "You were injured." He stated.

Bilbo's head jerked up. He'd never heard anything said so confidently, like it was common knowledge, like he should have already known that. _No..._ Thorin _believed_ in that, completely and whole-heartedly. How could anyone possibly be like that? Humans weren't, they weren't _good_ like that, they weren't...

They were greedy, and that was all. 

"Look, I don't know where you come from, or why you are here." Thorin said. "But this place, this town is mine to protect, and for as long as I remain alive I will fight to keep those here safe, even if they are just passing through."

Bilbo stared at him long and hard. Thorin looked back unwaveringly. Bilbo swallowed something bitter that had risen in his throat. "You're a fool." He croaked as he shakily stood.

Thorin just raised his brows, and steadied Bilbo with a huge hand. "Believe what you wish, but I know for a fact that you can't keep running from your past forever. I can see it in your eyes - you have a look that's familiar to me. I know the pain you feel inside, so why don't you let me help you? Let anyone help you? Any guild would have accepted someone with your magical abilities, and yet you have no mark."

Bilbo tensed, but quickly forced himself to relax. He knew what Thorin said had to be the truth. There was something undeniably similar about Thorin, something he found to be familiar, like a deep ache being aggravated by the most careless of stretches. He knew Thorin must see something haunting in him, but there was no way anyone would know of his past. He was foggy with it himself, and could only feel pain when he tried to think of the life that he'd once treasured. 

"I can't stay." He eventually said, eyes downcast. "Don't convince me to."

Thorin's hand tightened on his arm for a fraction of a second. "Would it be difficult?"

Bilbo looked away. "You said you recognised my sword."

Thorin looked suspicious at the sudden conversation change, but if he was angered he made no mention of it. "I do. My mother told me tales of it, tales that originated in a very old, very powerful book. I wish to know where you came across it."

Bilbo winced as Thorin gently lowered him into an armchair. He'd been led to what looked like an office, but there was no desk in sight. Rather, there were bookshelves that lined the walls for as far as he could see, and there were sealed vaults evenly distributed along the walls. An archive, perhaps. "I cannot answer that question." He said, pulling the cloak tighter across his chest. 

Thorin watched him cautiously. "Do you know how to wield it?"

"I do."

"What is its name?"

Bilbo shook his head. If he revealed that, then everything would surely be destroyed. It was a secret he would keep close until the day he died. 

 

Even though Bilbo wasn't particularly confined by Golden Peak, he wasn't permitted to leave. Their healer, a man named Oin, was doing his best to repair Bilbo's chest, and it felt wrong to leave without repaying him for all his hard work. Eventually, Bilbo found that he didn't quite hate the company of the guild members as he had first thought. 

The boy who rescued him was Thorin's youngest nephew. Kili had an elder brother, Fili, who had much the same temperament and excitable attitude. It was impossible to shake off their attentions when it was unwelcome, but Thorin often came to Bilbo's rescue to shoo them away, sighing agitatedly.

When Bilbo was strong enough, he was permitted to wander through the guild on his own. He spent much of his time in the archives and the small library located in the west wing, where he read many books on the history of the guild. It seemed to have had only four masters, with Thorin being the fourth as well as the youngest to be appointed. His father, Thrain, had mysteriously disappeared after a battle many years ago had killed Thorin's grandfather, who had been retired at the time. The more Bilbo read into it, the less it made sense, and he quickly turned his attentions away from the line of Durin. There were many unique things to learn about Golden Peak, and his time was easily diverted into learning its material history.

He got comfortable. He didn't want to, but he did.

 

Thorin's sister, a strong woman named Dis, was the first to draw Bilbo out of his room without force. She was a magic-wielder and a part of the guild, but she primarily resided in the Iron Hills, a citadel to the north with its own guild that acted as a sister-guild to Golden Peak.

She was a whirlwind. She liked to joke, but was careful never to aim any at Bilbo. She never questioned him about his past, or why his magic had the rest of the guild so on edge. She was a joyful soul, but one that seemed wounded on a deeper, forgettable level. She was calm and careful and gentle, but she was the only one who could yank apart her sons with so much force that they pouted and whimpered at anyone who cared to glance their way for the rest of the evening. 

Out of all the time they spent together, she only asked him one thing.

"What is your name?"

For the first time, he told someone.

"It's Bilbo."

 

Golden Peak was filled with many powerful mages. Despite Dis's disposition towards him, and her family's similar attitudes, there were many guild members that disliked him and kept their distance. Bilbo wasn't offended by their actions, but rather he could appreciate their concern. It was obvious he was reluctant to stay at Erebor, despite the guild master's orders. Their wariness of him was only natural, driven by instinct that Bilbo could respect.

He was dangerous, after all. He'd always been treated that way. They should fear him.

It was why the way the rest of the guild members acted startled him. Kili and Fili were naïve, weak to the ways of the world and the cruelty it could needlessly inflict. Kili had been the one to save him, and the boy had taken a liking to him because of that. Fili followed in a similar suit. Dis deemed their judgment of him to be fair and honest, and took to his company quickly. She treated him gingerly, which Bilbo appreciated. She seemed to understand the parts of him that were tenderly fragile, and never overstepped boundaries.

With her seal of approval, most of the other guild members quickly accepted his presence. The resident chef, Bombur, asked Bilbo if he liked his food, and looked awfully chuffed when Bilbo stumbled through a delayed _yes._ There was a man named Bifur who could only speak in a foreign language, but he clapped his arm at Bilbo and nodded in a pleased manner. His brother (or was it cousin?) Bofur was equally as strange, but energetic, and he spoke in an language that Bilbo could understand. 

There was another trio of brothers - Dori, Nori and Ori - whose names Bilbo could never correctly remember that warmed to him. Nori had a notorious case of sticky fingers, and had tried to pickpocket Bilbo a dozen times, though he never succeeded. Bilbo would have thought that would have warned him off, but it seemed to just fuel the fire. Dori was more pleasant to be around, and he had a fondness for tea that Bilbo could relate to. Ori was the youngest and the quietest, with a passion for literature that wasn't quite being met without enough support and enthusiasm.

Oin, the healer, and his brother Gloin grew to tolerate his presence, as well. Oin was the nicer of the two, mostly because he'd been around Bilbo for a while in order to heal him. Bilbo hadn't had the chance to repay him yet, but he would try to if the opportunity arose. A nice man named Balin often talked to Bilbo, too. He seemed wise and collected, and Bilbo often saw him talking to Dis or Thorin.

Dwalin was tougher to win over. He was an exceedingly broad and tall man with physical strength enough to rival Thorin's. He wore knuckle-dusters that sent chills down Bilbo's spine, and his ferocious facial expression never lessened. Bilbo didn't speak to him, and Dwalin returned the favour. 

Thorin, however, intrigued Bilbo more than anything. His power was something Bilbo felt like he could sense, like a ghostly touch on his skin. Bilbo always felt _tempted_ in Thorin's presence, tempted to stay and to talk and to reveal everything and to cry and to be _weak._ But he couldn't, he couldn't get people killed again. The power he had, it was too much. It would overwhelm Thorin, overwhelm Golden Peak and Erebor, and it would consume. 

He surely couldn't endure that.

 

Kili and Fili took him out to the ocean one day, under the watchful eyes of Thorin. Bilbo had never seen the ocean, never touched the sea. Kili had led him into the swash by the hand, and when Bilbo had shied away from the cold water Fili had made sure to guide him back in. 

It was warm that day. The sun shone brightly, and glittered on the surface of the rippling water to fill Bilbo's eyes with salt-scented sparkles. 

He cried. With his pants legs rolled up, and the breeze ruffling his hair to part it away from his face, he'd watched the ocean and cried. 

 

Bilbo trembled as Thorin held his hand. He shook and shivered and sobbed, one hand pressed to his face where it smeared his tears and muffled the noises tearing from his throat. 

No one had ever touched him like this. It was affection in its purest form, it was pure and warm and good. It made Bilbo feel _good,_ and he didn't deserve it. He couldn't understand how someone as tainted as Thorin could still be so happy, could still offer happiness and comfort and a place to call home to a murderer like Bilbo. He didn't even know Bilbo's past, know of his actions, but he acted like he could sense it, could sense all the anguish inside Bilbo, all the loneliness and the anger and the bitterness.

And he dismissed it. 

He did is so _simply_ that Bilbo didn't notice it at all until Thorin's hand was warm around his, a steadying anchor to tether him to earth. 

_Don't you understand that anchors have to drown, too?_

Bilbo selfishly held on tighter, and gave in to temptation.

 

This place wasn't so hideous anymore.

 

Erebor was attacked. The shadow-manipulator was among Azog's ranks as the town was ravaged. They'd all been inside the guild when the first rumbles had sounded, and then the screams began. It seemed like they never ended.

Magic saturated the city as Golden Peak began to defend what was their own. Guild members and enemies fell like dominoes, and it was all Bilbo could do but to bring up shield after shield to try and protect the people he'd coincided with for so long. It seemed like no matter what he did, nothing would be enough to save these people. He wasn't strong enough, he would never be. His shields kept shattering, one after the other, silver shafts of light splintering in every direction no matter how much magic he forced into it. 

_I can't breathe!_

Azog was a terrifying man. He stalked towards Thorin, intent on destroying a guild master, like it would gain him a trophy.

_No, no...!_

Bilbo threw out his arm, and in blinding flashes several swords materialised. A deafening screeching noise filled the air as the swords flew forwards, leaving tails of light in their wake. 

Shadows formed a dense dome across Azog's form, deflecting the swords before they shattered and burned out of existence in flashes of silver. A maniacal laugh filled the air as shadows launched forwards, leeched off of buildings and lampposts, to wind around Bilbo's arms and legs. He cried out in pain as they constricted tightly, leaving deep bruises. 

_"Caught you, little one!"_ He cackled. _"Won't you show me your sharpest swords, pretty please?"_

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted.

Bilbo screamed as the shadows twisted around his skin, bending him uncomfortably backwards. "Don't!" He gasped.

"Stop playing." Azog rumbled, eyes filled with a thirst for blood as he slammed his fist into Thorin's stomach. The man stumbled back several steps, coughing, and dropped to a knee to brace himself. Magic circles flared out on the ground beneath him, and from them burst long spears of a molten liquid.

Bilbo's eyes widened in terror when he realised it wasn't just a liquid, but it was _liquid gold._ It burnt and solidified where it made contact, and a wretched screech came forth from Azog as his right knee and left arm were turned to solid gold.

 _"Oakenshield...!"_ He snarled, slamming his arm forwards to send Thorin flying, "You'll pay for this! But first..."

Bilbo choked on air as the shadows binding him tightened impossibly further. 

"Show me!" Azog shouted. He stalked towards Thorin, and gripped him by the hair. "Show me the sword, or I'll wrench his head from his body!"

Bilbo's lungs tightened, and his breath started to turn laboured. Images flickered behind his eyes, flashes of the past that had him screaming in fear. He could see burning Smials, could taste the acrid scent of flesh and smoke. 

_People are dying, Bilbo!_

_I can't... I can't save them, I can't!_

_You're weak, you've always been weak! You'll kill everyone around you, and you can't stop it!_

"Don't!" Bilbo whimpered, arms trembling as he forcefully reached up to claw at the shadows encircling his throat. "Stop, please!"

Something was flickering above his head, something silver and bathed in a light that sent chills down Bilbo's spine. 

"Bilbo!" Thorin cried. His voice was raspy, but his magic was flaring up wildly. There was so much of it, Bilbo had never seen a human with such an affinity for magic. 

"I can't control it, please!" He begged, gasping. "I can't!"

Bilbo went limp as a giant magic circle expanded on the ground beneath him. It immediately filled with a shaft of silver light that boomed across the town and speared straight up into the sky, completely encompassing Bilbo. The shadow-manipulator screamed in pain as his shadows were eradicated from existence. 

Something changed inside Bilbo. He felt a rush of magic as the shaft of light dissipated, leaving him standing, head hanging, on the pavement. 

Above his head hung an ornate sword, at least eighty feet tall. The metal of it twisted and creaked as it forced its way into existence. Bilbo gasped for breath as he felt its weight press on his shoulders as though it were actually touching him, but it was kept suspended by his magic.

For now.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes. A sword materialised into his open palm, and he rushed forwards. The shadow-manipulated didn't even have the chance to stumble backwards before the sword Bilbo held was slashing through his chest. A burst of magic exploded between them, but it didn't harm Bilbo. The opponent slammed into a house, and it was completely demolished in an instant. He didn't get up again.

Strange, high-pitched breathes were coming from his throat, like sharp whimpers. He couldn't see straight, but he knew what was happening. For a moment the weight of the Sword of Damocles above him became too much and he stumbled, but he couldn't fall yet.

Bilbo lifted his eyes again, trying to focus. A sword similar to the one in his hand hung above Azog's head. Above Thorin's, too. When he glanced out across the town, it was no longer glittering with the reflections of the ocean but rather with the reflections of hundreds of swords, precariously hanging above the heads of everyone in range. Bilbo wanted to cry at the sight, wanted to scream and give in, because it was _happening again..! Please, no..._

But no amount of begging would fix this. Bilbo wasn't strong enough to hold up the Sword of Damocles for more than a few minutes at most. This town was fated to die from the moment he stayed.

A frustrated scream built up in his throat as he ran forwards. Azog countered his blow with a sheet of metal plating on his arm, but it shattered the moment Bilbo's blade touched it and sent Azog flying backwards. Bilbo followed, moving faster than Azog could see, and swung the blade up. 

It connected with Azog's golden arm, and for a moment nothing happened. Then he screamed, and before Bilbo's eyes the solid gold limb shattered into thousands of pieces. Azog stumbled, and fell to the ground, and Bilbo threw out his arm. A magic circle appeared in front of his palm, and a blast of white light encompassed Azog. 

He didn't scream again.

Bilbo fell back, his sword digging into the ground in a weak attempt to offer him support. The sword above him creaked ominously, and he felt tears stain his face.

"... Bilbo!"

_Thorin..._

He tiled his head to the side, eyes exhausted, mouth open in harsh pants. Thorin looked _terrified,_ pupils constricted until they were almost nonexistant. He had an arm stretched out towards Bilbo, but nothing would save him now.

WIth the last of his strength, Bilbo spoke.

Thorin screamed.

The Sword of Damocles, and all its smaller duplicates, fell.

_Forgive me._


	25. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times like these would never get old.

Frodo's first Christmas with Bilbo was a blissfully peaceful one. He was only fifteen months old, but he was a very clever little boy, and he seemed to know exactly what was happening when gifts were carefully passed over for him to have a go at unwrapping.

If Bilbo were being completely honest, he would admit that he had been somewhat concerned leading up to Christmas Day. Frodo was such a quiet child, and with the chaos of Thorin's mischievously adorable nephews and the general mayhem of Christmas and presents and all things Santa, Bilbo had worried Frodo would be forgotten. He hardly fussed even when he was hungry or in need of a change, and only ever cried if someone argued in front of him or if he was being extra clingy (which sometimes happened, but Bilbo couldn't blame him). 

Nevertheless, Frodo seemed to enjoy Christmas as much as the rest of them. For the most part, Bilbo sat on the floor with Frodo perched in his lap, leaving the gift delegation duty to Thorin, who easily wrestled his rowdy toddlers into a more manageable attitude. Kili and Fili were always gentle with Frodo, but sometimes their over excited personalities exhausted him, and Bilbo wanted Frodo to be happy and alert today.

Predictably, the children loved their presents. They'd been very excited when they rushed downstairs (Fili made sure to carefully lead Frodo by the hand down the stairs) to find that "Santa" had eaten half of every biscuit they'd placed out for him, emptied half of the glass of milk they'd poured and even taken the carrot they left out for Rudolph. Even if the children woke them up too early, it was worth it to see how excited they were at the mountain of presents under the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

Maybe Bilbo and Thorin had gone a little overboard this year. It was their first Christmas as a family with Frodo, so Bilbo had wanted it to be perfect, and Thorin couldn't have agreed more. They'd showered the children in books and colouring pencils and toy trucks. They'd bought each a stuffed animal, and Kili had a special doll with lovely blonde hair that he'd stared at in a store until he realised it wasn't in the "boys" section and therefore wasn't for him (he'd been very happy to see if, and couldn't believe for a moment that it was _his_ ). Thorin had picked out a beautiful music box for Frodo, which he wound up for Frodo when the baby was passed to his lap after Kili wormed his way into Bilbo's. 

While the children were busy eating the shortbread Bilbo had made and showing off their new things to each other, Thorin came over to stand beside him. Bilbo smiled at him, and welcomed the embrace Thorin offered. He knew he didn't have to say anything, because the way Thorin looked at him spoke of all the things words would never be able to explain.

There was no way to explain how their family was finally fitting together, like puzzle pieces perfectly pressed into place. It was just indescribable. Even as Thorin pressed a soft kiss to his temple before wandering over to take a seat beside Fili, Bilbo couldn't stop smiling. A smile stretched so wide on his lips that surely his cheeks would hurt that night.

Christmas was a time that brought everyone together. It made Bilbo appreciate what he had, what he'd been through, and where he'd ended up. He didn't know how his life would have turned out if he hadn't met Thorin, hadn't fallen in love with him and his nephews. 

Thoughts of the past were quickly swept away when he was called back over to join everyone on the floor by Frodo, where they were setting up Fili's Legos in an unorganised matter. He could lose himself in time with his family, even more so when they were happy and content like this. Times like now were the ones he'd always treasure, for all the years to come. 

It would never get old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, for those that celebrate! ❤ I hope everyone had a lovely day, regardless (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。
> 
> I do have a question reagarding _Switch Off_ \- I hadn't planned anything further than the last scene (mostly due to the fact that I only leave myself a few amount of hours a day to come up with a suitable story and write it) but I would like to know what you think would have happened next! I really enjoyed writing that AU, so it would be nice to know what you thought of it and any possible future directions (or scenes that could have happened before the second part) too!


	26. Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd look at a beautiful, flowering tree like the ones that bloomed in the private gardens and think that he was not one of the thousands of petals dancing in the soft wind, but rather he was the one that had already fallen and was forever to be stuck on the ground, watching those who truly had the right to flourish do what they did best.

When Bilbo was young, he remembered having a friend.

As the only son of the Queen who had become known as the Silent Monarch after the sudden death of the beloved King, he hadn't been permitted to leave the royal palace. His interactions were limited to those who looked after him, and those who taught him. For as long as he could remember, the walls of the palace and the private gardens had been his entire world. 

But when he was a child, he was sure he had a friend. He remembered kind blue eyes and a hand that was bigger than his guiding him through the palace. He remembered that this boy was afraid of storms, and that he didn't balk or shy away when being chastised. He hadn't really liked the gardens like Bilbo did, but he'd liked watching the soldiers train, and he had smiled so widely when a solider had noticed his admiration and given the boy his sword to hold. 

He couldn't remember the boy's face, and his voice would have surely changed by now. Bilbo was sure he'd remember those eyes if he ever saw them again, but even eyes can change depending on what they come to see.

_If only I remembered his name._

Bilbo didn't know why the boy had been sent away, but it had happened after his father died. Many people had been dismissed from the castle by the Queen in a fit of grief, and now their staff was only just enough to keep the palace clean and running where it had once been full of people who lived and learned and experienced a kinder life granted by the two rulers. It was colder than Bilbo once remembered it being, but so was the life of those ravaged by sadness.

His mother was strong, but she was lonely. She would be alone for as long as she retained the throne, and in so sacrificed her happiness so that Bilbo may only take it when he was properly and completely ready. Bilbo could never fault her, not when she selflessly forged on in a world she could no longer bare to be a part of. She had loved his father so fully that at his sudden death, none could blame her for her distance and the entire nation had grieved.

Many thought that on that day, both their King and Queen had passed.

Regardless, Bilbo felt bitterness at the loss of his only friend. He'd begged and pleaded with her to free him so that he may learn of the world outside of the palace, but her fear of his death relentlessly kept him close. He'd become withdrawn and quiet, and even as he aged he'd never been able to connect with anyone else as he had with that nameless boy. He'd once heard that the entire royal family had died the day his father had, but he didn't believe so. 

They'd just become lonely.

On the day the boy had been evicted, he'd said something that Bilbo could still remember if he closed his eyes and listened to silence. 

_"Don't worry, we'll play again, someday!"_

He smiled petulantly when he remembered that. His memories of his childhood were fragmented at best, and to remember something so insignificant... He felt silly. Nowadays, he was always sure to remember a person's name. Deep down inside he knew it was because he feared abandonment, so having a name tucked away in his head made him feel as though he had many friends. If he remembered their name, then they were acquaintances, where they not? They would be sure to remember his name, after all. He was a Prince. 

Still, he found himself unable to find and merge the relationship he was looking for. He felt doomed to forever be disconnected from the world, even though he had every right to be a part of something big and wonderful. He'd look at a beautiful, flowering tree like the ones that bloomed in the private gardens and think that he was not one of the thousands of petals dancing in the soft wind, but rather he was the one that had already fallen and was forever to be stuck on the ground, watching those who truly had the right to flourish do what they did best.

No matter how hard he wished to connect to someone, he couldn't overcome whatever it was that was holding him back. Fear, resentment, bitterness and loneliness - it all tethered him to the ground where he fervently tried to recall memories of a happier time.

Even the Silent Monarch could see he was suffering.

Then, one day, people started to ebb back into the palace. At first, Bilbo didn't notice, but then an unfamiliar face had passed him as he aimlessly wandered a corridor and he'd had to stop and watch them carry about their duty with a wide look to his eyes.

The faces in the palace hadn't changed in an eternity, but there was a new one, a face with rounded cheeks and long blonde hair and a faint splattering of freckles caused by too much sun exposure. He hadn't felt his heart move so fast as it did the moment he realised that there was something shifting, something changing and turning in the castle, as though someone had stopped a spinning ball and starting turning it in the opposite direction. 

It was a revolution.

As a part of the Royal Family, Bilbo was expected to greet those of higher status as they made the move into the palace. His mother sat on her throne, chin tilted up as though she were balancing something on the very tip of it. An ornate crown sat woven into her thick, dark hair, and despite how beautiful she looked her eyes were as silent and distant as they'd always been. The larger throne, the one she was meant to now occupy as the absolute monarchy, was empty. 

Bilbo stood on the steps to her left, lower down on the pedestal. Behind him stood Hamfast, a kind man who had always had the role of being Bilbo's servant. He helped Bilbo dress, and made him look presentable, got him to his lessons and meetings on time. Although Bilbo was the clock, Hamfast was the oil, the hand to keep the timer ticking. 

As always, Bilbo couldn't find the focus he needed to lavish on the guests. Rather, his eyes wistfully strayed to the wide windows on either side of the throne hall, where he could see the outside world only half obscured by tall, flowering trees. Every so often, a breeze would ruffled through the petals, and as the seasons turned more and more would drift through the wind until the air was coloured like the trees. If he stared long enough, then that brief, fleeting moment would become ingrained in his brain and he found that he could close his eyes and _feel_ the breeze as it touched the trees outside.

"Bilbo." 

He let out a deep exhale when the wind stopped and the trees outside settled into stillness once more. There was someone vying for his attention, something that needed to be handled...

Hamfast was subtly pulling on the back of his expensive, richly crafted waistcoat, leaning just close enough that Bilbo could smell the scent of generic soap he used to clean his hair. "My Prince, you must pay attention. Please."

Bilbo watched him out of the corner of his eye, but resigned himself to the knowledge that Hamfast was right. He didn't want the man to be scolded for his inattention, no matter how much he felt his soul wither away at such desolate greetings. Formalities had never interested him - but then again, neither had anything that came after for formalities, either. He really was going to make the most awful King.

When Bilbo turned his eyes to view the newest people greeting the Queen, he found that he'd missed half of it. There were two, this time - a man and a woman. Both were bowed on one knee, heads tilted down in respect.

"The man is to be the new trainer of the soldiers." Hamfast murmured. "The woman is his sister, and she shall be the one overseeing the female servants." 

Slowly, Bilbo let the air rush out of his lungs. He felt his eyes draw to the man, something faint tingling at the back of his head. He tried to recall what it was, but it flittered away before he could grasp it firmly. When the man lifted his head, however...

The room went still.

Bilbo felt something in him crack, like a snapped branch - it might have been his thoughts, or even his expression, but something sent him reeling.

The man's eyes slid to him, and they were so _blue,_ Bilbo found them indescribable. Of all the words in his head, he couldn't find a single one fitting enough. A smile that was warm and like the spring's sun graced his face, and then the man, still on one knee, was outstretching a palm towards Bilbo, who couldn't help but take a step back in his nervousness. 

"I said we'd play again, didn't I?"

It was like the breeze had picked him up. Bilbo felt faint, like he was light and floating without a sense of dizziness, so much so that he even slipped on the marble stairs when his mind said to move before his body was ready. Hamfast was quick to catch him and haul him upright, but with his hands full he couldn't adjust Bilbo's crown, which had fallen forwards to slant across one eyebrow.

It had always been a little too big, like it wasn't meant for him just yet. He'd never had it changed.

Almost frantically, he turned his eyes to his mother. Even at his age, he still craved her guidance and her comfort, something she'd depraved him of when his father had died. But now, she just watched him, and her head tilted down a little, like she didn't care that the object she seemingly balanced on it would fall. For the first time in many years, her eyes, however tired, didn't seem so troubled.

He felt his face scrunch up, and something began to burn his eyes. _Tears,_ his mind supplied. They were tears.

Before he could fix his crown, before Hamfast could either, he was racing down the stairs. He didn't trip over again, not this time, his feet were steady and even though everything else in him felt like it was wobbling, he was able to remain upright until he could throw himself into the man's startled arms.

For a moment the man felt like he was going to tip back at the sudden extra weight, but he was braced on his knee and quickly encircled his arms around Bilbo like it was natural instinct. He laughed quietly when Bilbo started to cry, like he expected that, and pet his back reassuringly. "Cry Baby Prince." He teased light-heartedly. "It's good to see you again. I feared you wouldn't be the same when I returned, even more so when the Kingdom despaired over how remote and disconnected you had become. I'm glad to see you are still you."

Bilbo huffed out a breath through his crying, and held on tighter. He knew he wasn't acting like a Prince, that he was meant to be composed and gentle and respectable, but he'd been that for so _long_ that this small reprieve was enlightening. 

Yes, it was a revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this, but my overall word count for this year passed 400k a few days back! Thanks for always encouraging me, I surely wouldn't have been able to write so much without such kind and wonderful feedback ❤


	27. Straightforward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wasn't the type of person to be clumsy.

Bilbo wasn't the type of person to be clumsy. He spoke clearly and to-the-point, and his attitude was straightforward, though not many appreciated such harsh honesty. Much like his attitude, he was generally solid on his feet, and didn't often drop things or trip over. 

Of course, when he _did_ \- well, that always made him pout. He always felt extremely embarrassed when he slipped down the stairs or stumbled, especially when there were others around to see. He supposed clumsiness was a sore spot for him, but he just disliked the feeling it gave him. He'd much rather retain his composed character, but alas, moments of clumsiness periodically plagued him. 

"Come now, Bilbo. Don't pout too much." Thorin teased as he gently lifted Bilbo from the floor to place him on the armchair in the lounge room. "It was just a small slip."

Bilbo made a small noise in the back of his throat, and frowned harder. His backside was aching from where he'd fallen on the kitchen tiles, but worse than that was his stung pride. He really didn't like being clumsy. 

Thorin just chuckled at him, and handed Bilbo the cup of tea he'd gotten up to make. "Honestly, my dear, everyone has clumsy moments. Yours are no different."

Bilbo huffed, and sunk further into his shoulders. "It's embarrassing." He whined. "I don't like it."

Thorin looked like he was valiantly trying not to laugh as he squeezed his way onto Bilbo's armchair. He was a much bigger man than Bilbo, so it certainly took quite the amount of squeezing, but he always managed. He seemed rather satisfied when he managed to fit under Bilbo, and all but purred as he cuddled Bilbo into his arms comfortably. "You're adorable."

"Don't tease."

"I'm not."

Bilbo flushed, and just groaned into his tea quietly. 

Thorin laughed. "You're brooding." He pointed out, smiling faintly as he traced his lips along the shell of Bilbo's ear. "Don't fret too much, dear."

Sighing, Bilbo leaned into Thorin's embrace. "You should leave me be when my pride is wounded." He declared, though even he knew Thorin would see through such a ridiculous lie. "Why was there even water on the floor in the first place?"

"Ah, I forgot to clean it up..."

Bilbo sent him a withering look. "Thorin!"

The man just laughed again, and distracted Bilbo from his frowning with a well-timed kiss to the lips. Admittedly, it certainly did distract him, as it always did. Even if Bilbo was straightforward, there was nothing more forthcoming than Thorin's affection, if he so wished it to be. No matter how long they were together, or how many kisses Bilbo received, the nature with which Thorin gave him them was always a surprise. 

In that sense, Thorin was the most straightforward person he'd ever known.


	28. Quiet Killers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin hated that he couldn't protect Bilbo from the impurities of the world.

Thorin hated that he couldn't protect Bilbo from the impurities of the world. 

Bilbo had always been a troubled child, though he never took it out on anyone and he'd never been difficult for his teachers to handle. In fact, to others, he was quite a pleasant boy - he knew his manners, and had a kind smile to go with his considerate nature. Even to Thorin, who no one wished to befriend, he was gentle and soft-spoken.

The world had done bad things to him. As a child, Bilbo had feared adults and lived with bruises wrongfully placed. His timid voice came not from a natural tone but from a hesitance to speak. More than anything, he seemed to fear anger, but he understood it more than any other person Thorin had ever met. It was the reason why Bilbo hadn't feared him, as many others did, due to his facial structure and general intimidating disposition (a cruel trick placed on him by the world, he thought, because he really wasn't that mean of a person and both his siblings carried a strong aura of friendliness wherever they went). 

Bilbo had nightmares, even now. He sometimes woke from sleep trembling, eyes damp. Sometimes Thorin didn't wake up to those kind of nightmares, didn't feel Bilbo shaking, didn't hear his quiet huffs of breath. He hated himself a little more every morning he woke up to a smile from Bilbo that didn't quite reach his red eyes. He was getting better at it - faking a smile like that - but Thorin could always see through them because he knew them so well. He himself was getting better at waking up to those quiet killers, too. 

Other times, Bilbo woke up with a violent gasp and a shaking start that shook the whole bed. Thorin always woke up for those dreams, because those were the ones that really hurt him. Bilbo's mind twisted the things that haunted him into something relevant and terrifying. He dreamed of monsters, of real people, of things that really scared him. He sometimes even dreamed of Thorin, of Thorin leaving or dying or never being there in the first place. Maybe he never was, Thorin didn't know, but he knew that he hated how those petty little things got stuck in Bilbo's head, in the corners he couldn't quite reach. 

One time, Bilbo had asked Thorin how long he'd lived in their apartment, before Bilbo moved in.

"I've quite forgotten, now." He'd answered, because he had. "How long have those dreams been in your head?"

Bilbo hadn't answered him, but Thorin thought he knew. Bilbo was really lonely in this world, and he didn't really have anyone other than Thorin. He never brought his friends over (Thorin didn't either, but that was irrelevant) and he never seemed interested in socialising. It seemed as though he was fine with what he had, even though it certainly wasn't what a person like him deserved. 

Sometimes Thorin asked Bilbo why he didn't move out. When times got tough - like when the rent went up, or the heating bill was too high, or Bilbo's job hadn't worked out for the week, because Thorin didn't pay for the house, he'd be there no matter who moved in - Bilbo should leave, should find somewhere to settle quietly and make connections with the world.

Instead, he suffered in silence with Thorin, and only told Thorin, _"If I move, then who would speak to me? I wish to stay with you"_ like it was the most logical answer. For him, maybe it was.

But that didn't matter. Thorin hated that Bilbo had been tainted by this world, because he would have surely been the prettiest flower to ever bloom, and now he was just wilting.

Still, Thorin would rejuvenate him as best as he could. If Bilbo wished to stay, then he would never be forced to leave, and Thorin would continue to hold him when nightmares plagued his dreams. It was all he could do.


	29. Mellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo himself wasn't fond of the gossipy nature of such a small island, but it was inevitable.

The Shire was a small island located just far away from the mainland that it appeared as nothing more than an unnoticeable blip on the horizon line. Its population was small, and its technology was outdated by no less than a decade. Summers were blisteringly hot, and winters were cold enough that fires were burned at all times throughout the duration of the night. It was a quiet place, where not much happened and time seemed to move pleasantly slow. 

Bilbo found the atmosphere uninspiring but peaceful. The quiet, only broken by the rhythmic sounds of chirping cicadas and the faint movements of the ocean in the near distance, was enough to stimulate Bilbo into working - as a writer, stimulation was everything. He found himself too distracted in the city, and it riled him up in an unfavourable way. His agent had shipped him off to the Shire some time ago, and Bilbo felt more connected to himself here. Both his parents were born on this island, and he believed he had been too, though he was raised for the most part on the mainland.

Not much of interest happened in the Shire these days. Sometimes the kids would find startlingly big beetles, and the islanders always had the best view of the occasional meteor shower at night. So when something did happen - like a new person moving to the island _(on purpose)_ \- it was always the talk of the town. Bilbo himself wasn't fond of the gossipy nature of such a small island, but it was inevitable.

That didn't mean he had to like it, especially not when _he_ became the object of fascination. He couldn't help that his agent was sending another struggling writer to the island, and he couldn't help that his agent felt it was best if said person lived with him. Bilbo's home was big, after all, and admittedly quite a lonely place to live. He had all the necessary supplies for someone to work, and the best internet connection on the entire island was in his living room. Gandalf - his agent - all but insisted Bilbo take in this writer so that he wouldn't be too culturally shocked by the atmosphere of the island.

The person who arrived at the single landing strip on the island was not quite what Bilbo had expected. He was a man of tall statue, with an angular face that seemed somewhat softened by facial hair and a nose he hadn't quite grown into. He carried that air of a writer, one Bilbo was very familiar with - he used to be much the same, though living in the Shire had most likely mellowed him out quite a bit.

His name was Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo found. He didn't do well in the heat, and didn't seem fond of the way the islanders crowded around him. Bilbo understood he needed time to settle and acclimatise, and as such he smiled politely and directed Thorin through the streets with relative ease. Most of his neighbours ignored him when he smiled like that, because he could get upset if provoked too much, and the islanders didn't seem to like the way he cried too much. They always got quite apologetic when he shed any tears. 

It took a while for Thorin to settle. He didn't seem to like the quiet life much, and probably resented Gandalf for sending him here. Unlike Bilbo, he didn't seem keen about hand writing anything, and spent most of his time in his room or in the studio, which was just really Bilbo's second spare bedroom with a decent internet connection and working computer from the current century.

Bilbo didn't mind. His house felt a lot less lonely with another person in it, even if they didn't see each other much, at first. He was content to sit in front of the wide doors that led straight out onto the wrap-around porch, where he had set up a small table and his writing supplies. He had a nice view of his garden from this spot, and the morning sun always left him pleasantly warm.

"Those bugs are loud." Thorin remarked to him once. He'd become more settled in Bilbo's home, and didn't seem so hesitant in doing things independently, like watering the garden and using the food without asking first.

"They'd cicadas." Bilbo explained gently, as he mindlessly wrote words in ink across a page that rested on his small, fold-up desk. He fidgeted on the pillow under his legs, and leaned a little heavier on the low table. "Aren't they relaxing?"

"It's... it's different." Thorin admitted. He was seated on Bilbo's armchair, watching him from across the room. 

Bilbo hummed in agreement, and nodded his head. "It certainly does take some getting used to." He said. "But I think you'll find that you like it here."

Thorin appeared doubtful, but as time progressed, he got closer to Bilbo. He helped Bilbo cook, and clean, and even did the shopping on his own one time. He joined Bilbo for his morning writing sessions by the wide doors. He often watched Bilbo working, and never complained about Bilbo's somewhat silent personality. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the quiet company, eventually. He smiled a lot more, too. 

"You look quite handsome when you smile." Bilbo told him once.

"Do I?" Thorin murmured, surprised.

Bilbo had made a confirming sound, and if he saw Thorin contemplatively touching his lips then he made no show of it. Bilbo thought Thorin might of been a little insecure, especially when it came to his interactions with others. That might of been why Gandalf sent him to this island in the first place.

Somehow it seemed only natural that Bilbo let Thorin stay past the time when Gandalf said he could return. He told Thorin that he liked feeling like his house was a home, and that his company was always welcome. And it seemed only natural that Thorin replied with nothing more than gentle kiss to Bilbo's cheek, one that Bilbo accepted with ease and a small smile.

The Shire changed people, but mostly for the better.


	30. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin leads the Resistance, and hopes to convince the opposing leader to do the right thing.

They called Thorin the root of the rebellion. It was an awkward play on words, he thought, brought on by the fact that he'd lifted an oaken branch as a makeshift shield to block a sword that had been aimed to whack off his head. They called him _Thorin Oakenshield_ now, or _King_ or Majesty or a hundred other names that held little meaning to him.

He just wanted to be called Thorin again.

But he couldn't leave his duties or hand over his position to anyone else. He was pivotal in forming the Resistance, and without him they would be leaderless and without direction. He was a perfectly healthy soldier, and his skill level was well above most of the other members of the army. He could teach them things, could lead them safely home - he was needed.

He sometimes wished he didn't have to.

The opposing army was lead by a fiend of a man called Azog. He used wolves and deformed soldiers to slaughter small, neutral villages, and took the young children hostage. From there he used them as child soldiers, raised them to be mindless and pliable and expendable. Despite the debilitating treatment, his army was powerful. 

His army was led by a man called Bilbo Baggins. He had been stolen as a child, and his quick intelligence and penchant for strategy had had him highly placed in their hierarchy. Despite this, Thorin saw hesitant in Bilbo's eyes, saw a lack of physical skill in his stance, heard a voice that wasn't built for giving orders. Secret information had Thorin aware that Azog's army was amassing, and he knew where Bilbo would be with a considerably smaller team of guards beforehand.

He planned to surprise them, and hopefully turn Bilbo's mind. If he could get their leader under control, then the army could revolt and Azog would be defeated. He knew that the way all the responsibility had been placed on Bilbo created a flaw in the structure of the army - the soldiers were too dependant on him, too accustomed to following everything he said without questioning the validity of the orders. If Bilbo spoke in favour of Thorin and the Resistance, then the army would follow. 

Thorin would capitalise on their conditioning, however cruel that may seem, to do what was right.

 

It was night when Thorin led in his troops. He'd adamantly refused to let his nephews tag along, but he had his best soldier, Dwalin, with him. The forest where he knew Bilbo would be was stiffening and quiet, but he hadn't expected anything less. He wasn't nervous, but he felt apprehensive. He knew his soldiers did too, but he couldn't console them, not in this quiet. The slightest noise would travel much too far for it to be safe.

Thorin had never seen Bilbo in person. He expected someone like himself - broad, tall, terrifying to look at. Rather, what he found was exactly what he never thought to expect. Bilbo was small, with a little noise and tiny hands and eyes that never seemed to lift higher than eye level, like he was stuck looking down forever. His cheeks were rounded and his hair was curly. He didn't look like a solider. More like a grocer, really.

Of course, Thorin didn't underestimate him. No one got into the position he held in Azog's army without stepping on a few bodies on the way up, and the fact that he seemed unassuming was a powerful weapon in itself. 

Thorin was almost certain that it had been Bilbo who first noticed them. They hadn't made a noise, had hardly breathed, but Bilbo's eyes flashed and suddenly his entire troop was upright with their weapons drawn. Thorin's soldiers reacted accordingly, and the battle began.

 

Bilbo was a weak fighter - Thorin knew he was stronger the moment their swords clashed. A few well-aimed blows and Bilbo was staggering back, but he was intelligent, he seemed to be able to predict Thorin's movements and act accordingly.

However, no amount of intelligence could trump skill when the body wasn't trained to overcome it. Thorin disarmed him after a moment of struggle, and quickly had the tip of his sword pressed just under Bilbo's chin.

"What do you want?" Bilbo bit out harshly.

"Listen to me." Thorin simply replied. 

Bilbo's eyes were impossibly bright as Thorin caught them in a strict gaze. They flashed with knowledge and maybe a little bit of reluctance, though that quickly disappeared under a stony wall that Thorin could almost feel radiating out of the smaller man.

And so he told Bilbo his plan. Told him what the Resistance was like. Told him what the right thing was to do. He saw that the wall was full of chips, and the more he pressed at them - admittedly, with his sword digging into the tender skin of Bilbo's neck - the more the wall began to crack.

"Why should I listen to you?" Bilbo snarled. For all the ferociousness in his voice, his face was the epitome of calmness, cold and emotionless and perfected. It was a mask, and nothing more, but Thorin hated it. It didn't feel human. 

"Is this really how you want to live?" Thorin countered angrily. "Can you tell me anything about yourself? Can you tell me what dreams you had as a child? Can you tell me what you wanted to grow up and be? Can you tell me _anything?"_

Bilbo's face twisted, and for the first time he looked stricken with something troublesome. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but then he grit his teeth and lowered his eyes and Thorin felt a twinge of empathy. 

"You know what the right thing to do is." Thorin murmured. He pulled away his sword, and dropped to a knee. Bilbo flinched as Thorin leaned closer, but let out nothing but a small exhale as Thorin unclipped the heavy armour burdening his small shoulders in order to throw it away. "You know the army will listen to you, and even if they don't... _make them."_

Bilbo seemed conflicted, but Thorin could tell something had shifted in his head. He'd have to see how it would play out, but he hoped Bilbo would do the right thing.

A lot of people's lives depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left :')


	31. Watch It Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin reminisce on the dreams the share.

They shared dreams. As far as Bilbo knew, it was an inherently Dwarven ability, something to do with soul mates and bonds and connections that were somewhat out of his range of comprehension. Hobbits didn't have such gifts, and certainly didn't create a bond as deep as the ones Dwarves were able to conjure up. It was like nothing he'd ever felt, but he'd long since become accustomed to it.

Most of the time, the dreams were simple. It was them in another world - soft, gentle dreams that filled Bilbo with a comforting sense of nostalgia upon wakening. Either one of them could be the host, so to say - one person dreamed the dream, and the other viewed it. Bilbo had a thought that maybe the majority of the dreams he shared with Thorin were developed and borne from his own mind, more so than Thorin's. Of course, there was hardly a way to confirm such a thing, because figuring out who dreamed what could be somewhat difficult. Regardless, as time progressed, Bilbo developed a sense for it. 

Some dreams were difficult for him to stomach. They dreamed of worlds that hardly seemed real, of times when they were younger and brighter and had different futures laid out for them, of places that weren't real but were too tangible to be something just made of the mind. It made his head spin sometimes, but waking up was a grounding process, and the feel of the bed sheets beneath him and, quite often, the sound of Thorin's steady breathing always brought him back to the right place. 

Even so, there were mornings where he sought out a further place of quietness to soothe his faraway mind. Such a place turned out to be the bedroom balcony, where the breeze was cool and a view across Esgaroth and the distant mountain peaks presented Bilbo with something stimulating to focus on. From here, Bilbo felt like he could see the entire world, and it comforted him. Nothing would ever be as grand or as beautiful as the view from Erebor. 

That was where Bilbo found himself that morning, leaning against the wide, stone railing so that he could tilt his face against the breeze. Sometimes he felt leftover feelings from the dreams, and the negative ones - anger, sadness, regret - they left him reeling for a little. It always took a bit longer than usual to collect himself after those types of dreams, but they were nothing he couldn't handle. 

Thorin found him a few moments later. He seemed sleepy, which was odd for him, and with a small, tired sound he draped himself across Bilbo's back and dug his nose into the crook of Bilbo's neck. "Morning, treasure." He mumbled around a yawn. 

"Good morning." Bilbo murmured, lifting a hand to touch Thorin's cheek gently. "What a strange dream you had last night."

Thorin hummed. It was a deep sound, one roughened by sleep. "It was strange."

"Strange, but short." Bilbo nodded in agreement. For a moment he was silent. "I think you would have convinced me."

"Truthfully?"

Bilbo nodded. "I remember feeling a lot of pressure and resentment. You came in like a proper Prince, and had so much more physical skill than me... and I'm sure I was convinced, in the end."

Thorin smiled faintly. "It's not the worst dream we've had."

"There was that dream where you killed me." Bilbo mused. "Several, in fact."

Thorin stiffened, and huffed out a breath of air. "I fear it." He murmured. "That is why I dream it."

Bilbo stroked his cheek reassuringly. "I know."

"What about all those dreams where you dress me up like a rebellious child?"

Bilbo chuckled. "You suit leather jackets, my dear." He said. "A real bad boy, you are."

"That dream where you played piano was nice, wasn't it?" Thorin asked.

"I like the one where I caught you singing in the shower." Bilbo grinned wolfishly.

Thorin flushed. "If I remember correctly, didn't you slip and fall?"

"And then your towel fell down!"

"Bilbo." Thorin huffed. "You were quite ferocious in the dream where you had tamed a dragon."

Bilbo nodded, smiling pleasantly. That dream was a rare one, one that carried over more than a single night - in fact, it had gone on for three! "I love to recall the one where we were walking through that park with all those big orange trees." Bilbo said wistfully. "And it started to rain."

"You shoved a leaf in my pocket." Thorin muttered. "A wet leaf."

"That was fun."

"I like the dream where you were covered in ink." Thorin said quietly, tracing a hand down Bilbo's bare arm where his skin was exposed by the short sleeves of his night gown. "The ink formed maps, and they changed as you travelled, did they not?"

"Something like that." Bilbo smiled, leaning into Thorin's touch. "What about the dream where we got married? It was during the night, and you told me that it was because your ancestor had seen a crown of stars in his reflection at Esgaroth."

"I remember." Thorin said. "You were very beautiful in that dream. It reminds me of the one where you came in to greet me at the throne, and everyone was watching, but you hardly seemed to care. You had a wonderful cloak on, and it billowed around you."

"I quite enjoy the whimsical dreams." Bilbo said. "Like the ones where I have a scaled tail! Remember the one where I collected sea glass? You were a pirate."

"There have been a few like that." Thorin agreed. "And there have been a few where you have wings, too. Remember the one that went for two nights, in which you were my guardian angel? Your wings were marvellous in that one."

Bilbo nodded. "The sensation of flying is very strange." He said. "It's less disorientating when I dream of walking on land!"

Thorin chuckled, and nuzzled against Bilbo's hair. "You're quite adorable in some of our dreams, âmralimê." He said teasingly.

Bilbo flushed, face red.

"Like that one where you were distraught over a goldfish." Thorin said airily. "Oh, if only you could see the cute faces you made then."

"Don't tease." Bilbo scowled, though there was no coldness in his expression. "You've made your fair share of expressions too, you know. All those times you dreamed of me as a child, your face was the epitome of protectiveness."

"I have no doubt." 

Bilbo sighed. "You're far too unembarrassed." He remarked. "You should be more embarrassed."

Thorin laughed. He sounded much more awake now. "You do all the blushing for the both of us, my love." He said endearingly, kissing away the scowl that Bilbo donned. "Do not fret, our dreams are for our eyes only."

Bilbo knew that - the dreams Dwarves had were impossibly private and only occurred between their One and themselves. They were never to be shared, because dreams were intimate desires, intimate fears and expectations and fantasies. They were a place to stay together, so that one would never be separated from the other. 

A small smile touched his lips as he surveyed the rising sun. Light began to fall across the balcony, bathing them in a chilly warmth that soothed all worries from Bilbo's mind. He twisted his head back, pressed a brief, soft kiss to Thorin's cheek, before settling in his arms to survey the view. "Here's to another year, then?"

"To another year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title relates to the first chapter I ever posted, of which was called _Plant Your Acorn._
> 
> Ahh, I can't believe the year is over! I really want to thank everyone for supporting me throughout the year, no matter when you joined my little challenge :') I'm certain I would have given up if it had not been for the encouraging feedback I received, no matter how little the story was! This has become so engrained in my routine, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself tomorrow! I'm really going to miss interacting with everyone here, so don't forget I have a [tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) where you're free to send in prompts or to have a chat with me :') 
> 
> Notice anything familiar about the dreams? ❤
> 
> Thank you for making my year so much better! I hope that what I've written brought even a small amount of happiness to your day, and that you enjoyed you what read ❤


End file.
